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HOR^E POETICS. 



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THE UTILITY OF THE CLASSICS. 



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1 POITICAE. 



PART I. 
THE SPIRITUAL APPLICATION OF THE CLASSICS. 

PART II. 
A PARAPHRASE OF THE PROSERPINE OF CLAUDIAN. 

PART III. 
LYRICS ON VARIOUS SUEJECTS. 



TO WHICH IS APPENDED, 



A POPULAR EPISTLE 



THE UTILITY OF THE CLASSICS. 



Lusimus. 



si quid vacui sub umbra 



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LONDON : 

$ribatele Irtntett. 



MDCCCXLI. 






LONDON : 

Printed by Maurice, Clark, and Co., Howford Buildings, 
Fenehurch Street. 



CONTENTS 



The Spiritual Application of the Classics : 

Preface . page vii 

Introduction ix 

Hodie 1 

Vox et praeterea Nihil 6 

Proserpine 9 

The Areopagus 33 

The Golden Age 18 

Et Tu quoque, Brute ! 19 

Lethe 22 

No Heart, no Hope 27 

Tu ne cede Malis .... Festina lente, &c. ... 32 

Ex loco Labor 37 

Honos Onus 40 

Lex currat Salica 46 

Hoc Age 51 

Minerva 55 

Jehovah 60 

A 



IV CONTENTS. 

Paraphrase of the General Thanksgiving . . page 65 

Epitaph on a Young and Virtuous Friend ... 66 

fart M. 

Paraphrase of the Proserpine of Claudian, . 67 

Preface 69 

Introduction . . 73 

Canto 1 77 

Canto II 09 

fart llh 

Lyrics on various Subjects, 131 

Lines suggested by a Moonlight Painting . . . 133 

To General M , on his leaving Spain . . .141 

Reply to the Question, ' What is Friendship ?' . t 142 

Lines written on Twynbarlwm 143 

On the Pen 144 

Origin of the Forget-me-Not 145 

To , on her third Birth-day 147 

A Simile 151 

To , on her fifth Birth-day 152 

In an Album 153 

A Ballad 154 

Epistle on the Utility of the Classics . . 179 



Part 3L 



THE 



SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 



THE CLASSICS 



PREFACE. 



The knowledge of the Triune Creator, self-existent in 
an infinity of Omniscience, Omnipotence, and Goodness, 
can alone be learned in His own eternal Word, — the 
Book of Revelation. From the same record alone can 
be gained a conviction of His stupendous mercy, as dis- 
played in Man's redemption, and in the bringing of life 
and immortality to light through Christ Jesus. 

As a subsidiary volume for our edification, another 
book has been mercifully submitted to our perusal, viz. 
the * Book of Nature.' For the comprehension of this, 
we possess the sublimest faculties, would we but duly 
cultivate and rightly employ them. 

The great apostle, St. Paul, and those devoted ministers 
of the Lord,— Job, Isaiah, and Moses, have vouchsafed 
to corroborate their all-important arguments by facts, 
gleaned from the last-mentioned volume. Not unfre- 
quently, too, has the great Founder of Christianity 
illustrated his doctrines by natural emblems and para- 



Vlll PEEFACE. 

bles. Hence it may be inferred, that it is the duty of all 
Christian tutors and scholars, in humble imitation of 
their Divine Master, to contemplate Nature's book with 
a spiritualized view ; and the more so, since the improve- 
ments in modern science have greatly facilitated its pe- 
rusal. No inconsiderable chapter in this book is the 
natural history of Man in his unregenerate state, which 
is fully elucidated under the head of the " Greek and 
Latin Classics." 

Tn most of our academic institutions, tutors have used, 
and will, in all probability, long continue to use, this 
part cf the volume alluded to. It were desirable, then, 
that such portions of it as may furnish striking subjects 
for spiritual themes by emblem and parable, should be 
spiritually studied, and not solely, as heretofore, for im- 
provement in language and history. With this feeling 
the following selections have been sent to the press. It 
is presumed they may serve as examples to junior stu- 
dents for similar essays, and not be unacceptable to 
general readers, by awakening their classical and histo- 
rical reminiscences. 

Huwpton- Wick, 

July 1841. 



INTRODUCTION. 



To Charity is dedicated 
This Volume, at whose feet prostrated, 
The rhymer claims for ev'ry page 
Acceptance kind and patronage ; 
Craving the lovely dame to throw 
O'er its defects her skirt of snow ; 
To view with lenient eye each part 
That contravenes the rule of Art, 
But with unsparing hand efface 
What Truth and Virtue would erase. 
Then, Reader, stop ! who art in want 
Of Charity this boon to grant : 
Here stop ! — and know that ev'ry line 
Thou further read'st, I would define 
A trespass ; for my Muse will own 
As welcome readers those alone 



INTRODUCTION. 

Who, when they've conn'd my dedication, 
Claim with my Patroness relation : 
To such she dares a word bestow, 
Th' origin of her rhymes to show. 
When, for the maladies unholy 
Of Idleness and Melancholy, 
Reason prescrib'd some occupation 
Of serious sort, in contemplation 
Vainly rov'd my wilder'd mind, 
A novel, pleasing theme to find. 
At last the matchless Theme of themes, 
' The Riches of God's goodness' seems ; 
A theme, too, that the mental eye 
Can nothing like or next it spy.* 
Granted, the theme has oft before 
Grac'd poet's lay and sage's lore, 
In ev'ry age, on ev'ry shore ; 
Yet ne'er can finite reason's might 
Exhaust a subject infinite. 
First, in the triune Essence, see, 
From sinful mixture's least tint free, 
* " Nil simile aut secundum." 



INTRODUCTION. xi 

A boundless, fathomless ocean-flood 
Of infinitely perfect good, 
Source* nor termination knowing, 
Eternally with love o'erflowing. 
Next on his works attention cast, 
From least to greatest, first to last, 
Behold to each a streamlet sped 
Of goodness from that ocean-bed ! 
Behold, not one of things created, 
Of which ill can be predicated 
Entirely ; since the Schools deny 
To God a perfect contrary/f- 
Not one J but Goodness deigns to bless 
At least with some one usefulness ; 
With man, unworthy man, the end 
To which that usefulness may tend. 
The rolling globe's unbounded store 
Of sparkling gems and precious ore, 

The Alpha and Omega of all that we can conceive or know, and 

yet without beginning or end. 

f Ipse enim Diabolus, qua. ' ens,' et a Deo creatus, bonus est. 

t Sit et hara, ara. 



XU INTRODUCTION. 

With all upon and in its breast, 

From central cave to mountain-crest, 

For man was made ; but not the earth 

Could bring the inert clay to birth. 

Should Goodness cease its pow'rs to crown, 

By dropping life and fatness down ; 

Goodness again, with fix'd intent, 

Renders that fatness nourishment 

To thankless man. Yet all of this, 

Though great, is still but earthly bliss : 

These are God's left-hand blessings ; these 

The least of all his favours please. 

His goodness, not content to pour 

On man earth's unexhausted store, 

Nor bound his views by earth alone, 

With heav'n his earthly path has strewn. 

Yes ! all in heav'n-appointed chance, 

All in apparent Providence, 

All in nature, all in art, 

Each storied line contains a part 

Of Goodness secretly enshrin'd, 

Would man but take the pains to find. 



INTRODUCTION. Xill 

The jewel, thus in silver set, 

Lurks in the secret cabinet 

As in its mine, — perchance a token 

Of worldly faithfulness unbroken. 

Why has the crimson'd classic page 

To us come down unscath'd by age, 

But to proclaim since time began 

The state of unregen'rate man ? 

Perhaps we quit poetic bounds, 

In lieu of sense to deal in sounds, 

To say our very body's meat 

With heav'n is spic'd, if not replete. 

Food to our better part is giv'n 

By food, — then food is spic'd with heav'n. 

Apparel, business, recreation 

Not to the body oblectation 

Alone impart ; with bland control 

They clothe, refresh, and cheer the soul. 

Bladeless and bleak, to careless eyes 

A worthless void, the desert lies; 

Yet, under Afric's arid plain 

Unnotic'd lurks the golden grain. 



XIV INTRODUCTION. 

Oh ! should our eyes Religion ope, 
All Nature but a telescope 
Appears, in whose dark lens we trace 
God's goodness to a fallen race ; 
Through which refulgent glories shine 
Of one, ineffably divine. 
'Neath Polytheism's motley pall 
The lamp of Truth was dim and small ; 
Then hill and valley, stream and tree, 
Were hallow'd by Divinity; 
Each tiny flow'ret's hue and face 
Were emblems of a latent grace. 
A flow'ret gave to Ajax fame, 
Tinted his fate* and trac'd his name : 
Yea ! much of Pagan lore did lie 
In floral physiognomy. 
But now, in Learning's sunnier day, 
Fades Superstition's mist away ; 

* The flower, into which this hero was changed, was of a blood- 
red colour, symbolic of his violent death. The veins of the leaves 
formed the letters AI, the first and second letters of his Greek 
name, which also mean Alas ! 



INTRODUCTION. XV 

Shall bounteous Nature bloom in vain, 
And man still unimprov'd remain ? 
Be it the aim of education, 
To ev'ry man in ev'ry station, 
The spiritual end of things to learn, 
Not their mere temporal use discern. 
And not alone in Nature's bow'rs 
Are blooming emblematic flow'rs ; 
Science and Art have gardens, where 
Smile many a gay and sweet parterre, 
Whence we may fragrant bouquets tie 
From Story, Song, or Heraldry, 
And fadeless moral garlands twine, 
Quintessenc'd with perfume divine. 
Hence are my emblems, tied as found, 
By no synthetic riband bound,* 
Nor deftly match'd in trim array, 
A vivid contrast to display. 
But should my floral emblems' bloom, 
By aught they share of true perfume, 
One reader to the garden send, 

" Arena sine calce," as Caligula said of Seneca's works. 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

Where flow'rs in bloom eternal blend,* 

My hope will then o'erleap its pale, 

Its acme my ambition scale. 

Past is the hour for moral lore 

To teach aught unbeknown before : 

Little have poets left to scan, 

From Paraguay to Hindostan. 

Since to the stratum of my brain 

Nature denies invention's vein, 

My prosy rhymes, I humbly ween, 

(As dead weights move the slow machine,) 

Are means whereby the wheels of thought 

May be to truer movement brought, 

And one, perchance, be mov'd to try 

In life this i Holy Chemistry ' : — 

To let nought unregarded pass, 

Nor leaf, nor flow V, nor blade of grass, 

Whence in his heart he can, at will, 

An essence spiritual distil. 

This is th' elixir true of life, 

The panacea of mortal strife, 

* Scriptural meditation. 



INTRODUCTION. XV11 

The real alchymy, whose use 
Forborne admits of no excuse ; 
For neither poverty nor wealth 
Excuse the soul's neglected health. 
In this respect, the world's expanse 
Is ev'ry man's inheritance : 
To ev'ry man its moral store 
Is open, be he rich or poor. 
The bee has privilege to roam 
At will, to stock her honied home 
With treasure rare from ev'ry flow'r, 
By peasant's cot or monarch's bowV, 
Her visits oft a favour deem'd, 
Herself no trespasser esteem'd. 
Kind reader ! in old-fashion'd way, 
With vale ! vale ! ends my lay. 





c / " 



CONTENTS. 



The Spiritual Application of the Classics: 

Preface page vii 

Introduction ix 

Hodie 1 

Vox et prseterea Nihil 6 

Proserpine 9 

The Areopagus . . . . . . . .13 

The Golden Age 18 

Et Tu quoque, Brute ! 19 

Lethe 22 

No Heart, no Hope 27 

Tune cede Malis .... Festina lente, &c. . . . 32 

Ex loco Labor 37 

Honos Onus 40 

Lex currat Salica 46 

Hoc Age 51 

Minerva . . 55 

Jehovah 60 

A 



IV CONTENTS. 

Paraphrase of the General Thanksgiving . . puge 65 

Epitaph on a Young and Virtuous Friend ... 66 

$att e. 

Paraphrase of the Proserpine of Claudian, . 67 

Preface "... 69 

Introduction 73 

Canto 1 77 

Canto II 09 

Part ffl. 

Lyrics on various Subjects, 131 

Lines suggested by a Moonlight Painting . . . 133 

To General M , on his leaving Spain . . . 1 41 

Reply to the Question, ' What is Friendship ?' . . 142 

Lines written on Twynbarlwm 143 

On the Pen 144 

Origin of the Forget-me- Not ..... 145 

To , on her third Birth -day 147 

A Simile 151 

To , on her fifth Birth-day 152 

In an Album 153 

A Ballad 154 

Epistle on the Utility of the Classics . . 179 



Part I. 



THtf 



SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 



THE CLASSICS, 



PREFACE. 



The knowledge of the Triune Creator, self-existent in 
an infinity of Omniscience, Omnipotence, and Goodness, 
can alone be learned in His own eternal Word, — the 
Book of Revelation. From the same record alone can 
be gained a conviction of His stupendous mercy, as dis- 
played in Man's redemption, and in the bringing of life 
and immortality to light through Christ Jesus. 

As a subsidiary volume for our edification, another 
book has been mercifully submitted to our perusal, viz. 
the ' Book of Nature.' For the comprehension of this, 
we possess the sublimest faculties, would we but duly 
cultivate and rightly employ them. 

The great apostle, St. Paul, and those devoted ministers 
of the Lord,-^Job, Isaiah, and Moses, have vouchsafed 
to corroborate their all-important arguments by facts, 
gleaned from the last-mentioned volume. Not unfre- 
quently, too, has the great Founder of Christianity 
illustrated his doctrines by natural emblems and para- 



Vlll PREFACE. 

bles. Hence it may be inferred, that it is the duty of all 
Christian tutors and scholars, in humble imitation of 
their Divine Master, to contemplate Nature's book with 
a spiritualized view ; and the more so, since the improve- 
ments in modern science have greatly facilitated its pe- 
rusal. No inconsiderable chapter in this book is the 
natural history of Man in his unregenerate state, which 
is fully elucidated under the head of the " Greek and 
Latin Classics." 

Tn most of our academic institutions, tutors have used, 
and will, in all probability, long continue to use, this 
part of the volume alluded to. It were desirable, then, 
that such portions of it as may furnish striking subjects 
for spiritual themes by emblem and parable, should be 
spiritually studied, and not solely, as heretofore, for im- 
provement in language and history. With this feeling 
the following selections have been sent to the press. It 
is presumed they may serve as examples to junior stu- 
dents for similar essays, and not be unacceptable to 
general readers, by awakening their classical and histo- 
rical reminiscences. 

Hampton- Wick, 
July 1841. 



INTRODUCTION 



To Charity is dedicated 
This Volume, at whose feet prostrated, 
The rhymer claims for ev'ry page 
Acceptance kind and patronage ; 
Craving the lovely dame to throw 
O'er its defects her skirt of snow ; 
To view with lenient eye each part 
That contravenes the rale of Art, 
But with unsparing hand efface 
What Truth and Virtue would erase. 
Then, Reader, stop ! who art in want 
Of Charity this boon to grant : 
Here stop ! — and know that ev'ry line 
Thou further read'st, I would define 
A trespass ; for my Muse will own 
As welcome readers those alone 



INTRODUCTION. 



Who, when they've conn'd my dedication, 
Claim with my Patroness relation : 
To such she dares a word bestow, 
Th' origin of her rhymes to show. 
When, for the maladies unholy 
Of Idleness and Melancholy, 
Reason prescrib'd some occupation 
Of serious sort, in contemplation 
Vainly rov'd my wilder'd mind, 
A novel, pleasing theme to find. 
At last the matchless Theme of themes, 
' The Riches of God's goodness' seems ; 
A theme, too, that the mental eye 
Can nothing like or next it spy.* 
Granted, the theme has oft before 
Grac'd poet's lay and sage's lore, 
In ev'ry age, on ev'ry shore ; 
Yet ne'er can finite reason's might 
Exhaust a subject infinite. 
First, in the triune Essence, see, 
From sinful mixture's least tint free, 
* " Nil simile aut secundum." 



INTRODUCTION. xi 

A boundless, fathomless ocean-flood 
Of infinitely perfect good, 
Source* nor termination knowing, 
Eternally with love o'erflowing. 
Next on his works attention cast, 
From least to greatest, first to last, 
Behold to each a streamlet sped 
Of goodness from that ocean-bed ! 
Behold, not one of things created, 
Of which ill can be predicated 
Entirely ; since the Schools deny 
To God a perfect contrary,f 
Not one J but Goodness deigns to bless 
At least with some one usefulness ; 
With man, unworthy man, the end 
To which that usefulness may tend. 
The rolling globe's unbounded store 
Of sparkling gems and precious ore, 

* The Alpha and Omega of all that we can conceive or know, and 

yet without beginning or end. 

f Ipse enim Diabolus, qua ' ens,' et a Deo creatus, bonus est. 

t Sit et hara, ara. 



Xll INTRODUCTION. 

With all upon and in its breast, 

From central cave to mountain-crest, 

For man was made ; but not the earth 

Could bring the inert clay to birth. 

Should Goodness cease its pow'rs to crown, 

By dropping life and fatness down ; 

Goodness again, with fix'd intent, 

Renders that fatness nourishment 

To thankless man. Yet all of this, 

Though great, is still but earthly bliss : 

These are God's left-hand blessings ; these 

The least of all his favours please. 

His goodness, not content to pour 

On man earth's unexhausted store, 

Nor bound his views by earth alone, 

With heav'n his earthly path has strewn. 

Yes ! all in heav'n-appointed chance, 

All in apparent Providence, 

All in nature, all in art, 

Each storied line contains a part 

Of Goodness secretly enshrin'd, 

Would man but take the pains to find. 



INTRODUCTION. Xlll 

The jewel, thus in silver set, 

Lurks in the secret cabinet 

As in its mine, — perchance a token 

Of worldly faithfulness unbroken. 

Why has the crimson'd classic page 

To us come down unscath'd by age, 

But to proclaim since time began 

The state of unregen'rate man ? 

Perhaps we quit poetic bounds, 

In lieu of sense to deal in sounds, 

To say our very body's meat 

With heav'n is spic'd, if not replete. 

Food to our better part is giv'n 

By food, — then food is spic'd with heav'n. 

Apparel, business, recreation 

Not to the body oblectation 

Alone impart ; with bland control 

They clothe, refresh, and cheer the soul. 

Bladeless and bleak, to careless eyes 

A worthless void, the desert lies ; 

Yet, under Afric's arid plain 

Unnotic'd lurks the golden grain. 



XIV INTRODUCTION. 

Oh ! should our eyes Religion ope, 
All Nature but a telescope 
Appears, in whose dark lens we trace 
God's goodness to a fallen race ; 
Through which refulgent glories shine 
Of one, ineffably divine. 
'Neath Polytheism's motley pall 
The lamp of Truth was dim and small ; 
Then hill and valley, stream and tree, 
Were hallow'd by Divinity; 
Each tiny flow'ret's hue and face 
Were emblems of a latent grace. 
A flow'ret gave to Ajax fame, 
Tinted his fate* and trac'd his name : 
Yea ! much of Pagan lore did lie 
In floral physiognomy. 
But now, in Learning's sunnier day, 
Fades Superstition's mist away ; 

* The flower, into which this hero was changed, was of a blood- 
red colour, symbolic of his violent death. The veins of the leaves 
formed the letters AI, the first and second letters of his Greek 
name, which also mean Alas ! 



INTRODUCTION. XV 

Shall bounteous Nature bloom in vain, 
And man still unimprov'd remain ? 
Be it the aim of education, 
To ev'ry man in ev'ry station, 
The spiritual end of things to learn, 
Not their mere temporal use discern, 
And not alone in Nature's bow'rs 
Are blooming emblematic flow'rs ; 
Science and Art have gardens, where 
Smile many a gay and sweet parterre, 
Whence we may fragrant bouquets tie 
From Story, Song, or Heraldry, 
And fadeless moral garlands twine, 
Quintessenc'd with perfume divine. 
Hence are my emblems, tied as found, 
By no synthetic riband bound,* 
Nor deftly match'd in trim array, 
A vivid contrast to display. 
But should my floral emblems' bloom, 
By aught they share of true perfume, 
One reader to the garden send, 

" Arena sine calce," as Caligula said of Seneca's works. 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

Where flow'rs in bloom eternal blend,* 

My hope will then o'erleap its pale, 

Its acme my ambition scale. 

Past is the hour for moral lore 

To teach aught unbeknown before : 

Little have poets left to scan, 

From Paraguay to Hindostan. 

Since to the stratum of my brain 

Nature denies invention's vein, 

My prosy rhymes, I humbly ween, 

(As dead weights move the slow machine,) 

Are means whereby the wheels of thought 

May be to truer movement brought, 

And one, perchance, be mov'd to try 

In life this ' Holy Chemistry ' : — 

To let nought unregarded pass, 

Nor leaf, nor flow V, nor blade of grass, 

Whence in his heart he can, at will, 

An essence spiritual distil. 

This is th' elixir true of life, 

The panacea of mortal strife, 

* Scriptural meditation. 



INTRODUCTION. XV11 

The real alchymy, whose use 
Forborne admits of no excuse ; 
For neither poverty nor wealth 
Excuse the soul's neglected health. 
In this respect, the world's expanse 
Is ev'ry man's inheritance : 
To ev'ry man its moral store 
Is open, be he rich or poor. 
The bee has privilege to roam 
At will, to stock her honied home 
With treasure rare from ev'ry flow'r, 
By peasant's cot or monarch's bowV, 
Her visits oft a favour deem'd, 
Herself no trespasser esteem'd. 
Kind reader ! in old-fashion'd way, 
With vale ! vale ! ends my lay. 




THE 

SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

OF 

THE CLASSICS. 



H O D I E ! 



Tarquin and the Cumsean Sybil— Horace's Clown — Bubicon. 



In lordly Rome's imperial hour, 
"When Tarquin sway'd the rod of pow'r, 
An aged Sybil hail'd the king, 
Nine mystic volumes proffering. 
The monarch grudg'd the price to pay : 
The dame, rejected, went her way. 
Three in the fire she quickly threw, 
But soon return'd ; with zeal anew 
She dares the primal price affix, 
Though of the nine remain but six. 
Denied again, three more she burns, 
Again undauntedly returns, 



SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

And tenders now the dwindled trine 
Precisely at the price of nine. 
The tyrant-prince her zeal admir'd, 
And gave at last the price desir'd. 
Long in these mystic tomes of fate 
Lay the salvation of the state. 
Did pestilence with heavy hand, 
Or war or famine vex the land ? 
These they consulted : hence they learnt 
What sacrifice, on altars burnt, 
Or rites would threaten'd ills prevent, 
Or banish those already sent. 
Prizing aright, from what remain'd, 
The treasure that the whole contain'd, 
Often and late, with vain lament, 
Did Rome her monarch's thrift repent. 



See, proffer'd thus in early youth, 
Salvation in the Book of Truth. 
Faith and repentance are its price ; 
But we, too oft the slaves of vice, 



OF THE CLASSICS. 

Venture the proffer'd boon refuse, 
And thus the bright advantage lose, 
Plae'd by acceptance in our pow'r 
In early youth's delightful hour. 
Youth's tender twig, from canker free, 
In time becomes the knotty tree : 
Yet in that time the weary sun 
Full many a circling course has run ! 
What have we done ? 'Twere well to count 
The sum to which our acts amount : 
Nought ! We're convinc'd, against our will, 
That, pauper-born, we're poorer still. 
Sin upon sin, from year to year, 
Has made the purchase yet more dear 
Of what, comparatively for nought, 
We might in sinless youth have bought, 
And what perforce we buy at last, 
Or die from Christ for ever cast. 
But grant that youth have run to waste, 
The precious offer unembrac'd, 
Manhood is courted, urg'd, again 
The tender to accept, — in vain ! 
b2 



SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Vigour and courage, wisdom, health, 
A priceless heritage of wealth, 
Within our reach are surely plac'd : 
When once by such acceptance grac'd, 
Glorious in Israel we become, 
Tall cedars in God's Lebanon. 
Perchance we still begrudge the cost : 
Manhood's refusal now has lost 
The second part of being's day, 
Fritter'd in nothingness away. 
If awful death's uncertain night 
Eclipse not life's meridian light, 
Again, in being's final stage, 
In dull decrepitude of age, 
The tender is a third time made ; 
Alas ! no more in charms array 'd. 
Hardly will such acceptance please, 
Wrapt in the grave-clothes of disease, 
Stripp'd of the innocence of youth, 
Of manhood's energy and truth, 
When each exhausted joy of sense 
Has left the soul in impotence. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 

Few active virtues grace that hour, 
Passive alone are in our pow'r : 
We wait and wait, the contract lose, 
Till mercy's gates for ever close. 
Well do the sage and poets # say 
" Delay is death : begin to-day/' 
To-day to duty disinclin'd, 
To-morrow more so is the mind. 
Remember the Horatian clown/f 
Who gaz'd the rapid tide adown 
Expectant, till the flood gone by 
Should leave the pebbled crossing dry ; 
Surely forgot that loit'ring man, 
'Twould run for ever as it ran. 
To-day, then, on ! young Christian, on ! 
And cross the spiritual Rubicon ; 
And, crossing, hear the sabbath-chime 
Proclaiming " Now 's the accepted time " 
To war, with banner high unfurl'd, 
Against the Devil, Flesh, and World. 

* " Qui non est hodie, eras minus aptus erit." — Martial. 
f Horace, Epist. lib. i. 2. 



SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 



VOX ET PR^TEREA NIHIL 



Earth their outport, earth their haven. 



When Genius * first, with oar unwieldy, plied 
His rough-hewn alder on the buoyant tide, 
Or dar'd the sail to fickle winds unfold, 
And force a path where nature pathless roll'd, 
Though near the land, and ruder gales at rest, 
What hopes elated and alarms deprest ! 
Adventure urg'd him onward to explore 
The varied bearings of his native shore ; 
Till, from the main-land borne, his curling sail 
O'er sky-zon'd billows rose upon the gale. 
Then rose his spirit, — to the whizzing wind 
Flung fear, and left it with the land behind ; 
Light as the spray along the rolling tide, 
The surge his music and the stars his guide, 
Where, in the storm, the chaf cl Egean foams 
Lord of the chainless wave, at large he roams. 

* Of invention. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 

Heed not this harmonious boasting ! 

Where the Tuscan waters flow, 
While the Roman's barque was coasting, 

Fear was pilot of the prow. 

O'er the night-veil'd wave of story 
Landward roam'd his wat'ry car, 

By a planet's circling glory, 
Or the oft enshrouded star. 

But when winter's breath, assailing 
Heav'n, had chaf'd the wave to foam, 

Latium's son, in courage failing, 
Durst not make the sea his home : 

To earth alone a constant craven, 
He by earth life's voyage steer'd, 

Earth his outport, earth his haven, 
Earth his only home appear'd. 

Ev'ry wind of doctrine blew him 
From Hope's eternal anchor-band ; 

Ev'ry storm of fortune threw him, 
Where e'en Hope had fled the strand. 



SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Toss'd by adverse fortune's billow, 
Romans breasted not the tide ; 

But wilful sought a wat'ry pillow, 
Perishing in stoic pride. 

But the Christian sailor, steering 
Far from earth his heav'nly way, 

Faith at the helm, no shipwreck fearing, 
Boldly seeks Salvation's bay. 

Surer, as his navigation 

Steer'd by compass o'er the tide 
Is his voyage to Salvation, 

Jacob's star his beacon-guide. 

Ne'er by superstition shrouded 
Is that star's resplendent light ; 

Ne'er by fortune's winter clouded 
Is the Cross of glory bright. 

Scripture's chart, unroll'd before him, 
Marks the site of gulf and rock ; 

Scripture's beacon-planet o'er him 
Shines, their latent wile to mock. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 

Nay, the phrenzied tempest's madness 
Soon becomes the Christian's sport • 

He views its raging wave with gladness 
Faster bear him to his port. 

Soon behind him on th' horizon 
Fades the land of toil and tears ; 

Earth no more his heart relies on, 
Heav'n his only home appears. 



PROSERPINE 



Terret, lustrat, agit, Proserpina, Luna, Diana, 
Ima, superna, feras, sceptro, fulgore, sagitta. 



The hallow'd tenet of our faith reform'd 
Was dimly figur'd in the Attic creed. 
Of triple form one goddess was ador'd, 
Who beam'd, as Luna, regent of the night,- 
On earth Diana, Hecate below. 
Hence Superstition ever plac'd her fane 



10 



SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 



Or statue, where three* roads convergent met : 

In marble bright the chisel'd goddess stood, 

Where oft their rambles led the Attic youth. 

No fancied Hecate's our triune God: 

He, Everlasting, Omnipresent, dwells 

In glory bright beyond our fancy's ken, 

Who, " All in All," for ever glorious, works ; 

Without whose intermediate act could be 

Nought, nor preserv'd aught, since in Him alone 

" We live, we move, and being's essence have ;" 

Whom boundless space cannot include, from space 

Who ne'er can be excluded : ev'ry where 

He is, and ev'ry where our living Lord.f 

His Attic lesson let our classic youth 

Apply in spirit, that no path he tread 

Which leads not to the altar-stone of Christ; 

That all his walks may emulate the priest's 

Within the temple to Jehovah's shrine. 

No ! though a friend, a second self, should be 

* In triviis. 

t Plato compared the Almighty to a circle, whose centre is 

everywhere and circumference no where. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 11 

Dearer than Damon by his Pythias priz'd ; 

Even from him yet be the pow'r withheld 

To lead the Christian from that altar-road. 

Athenian Pericles to please refus'd 

His bosom-friend by witness to a lie. 

Hist'ry* can tell how vassal Menas urg'd 

The son of hapless Pompey to unmoor, 

Or cut by stealth, the cable of the barque 

In which Octavius and Antonius sate 

In pleasant council, — Pompey's rivals sole 

Of Rome's Triumvirate, that cow'd the world. 

" Let but my noble lord approval nod/' 

Whisper'd the trusty freedman, " when afar 

Shall bound the loosen'd galley from the strand 

O'er the wroth Tuscan in the fav'ring gale. 

Soon from the deck, beneath the bubbling surge, 

This arm shall stealthy hurl the rivals twain, 

Who now the sole invidious barrier stand 

Between the empire of a world and thee ! 

No longer Sicily or Sardinia's isle 

Shall gem the petty sceptre of thy pow'r ; 

* Plutarch. Vit. Antonii. 



12 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

But palac'd Rome, and all the broad domain, 
O'er which her eagle has in conquest flown, 
Shall beam the priceless jewels of thy crown." 
The daring counsel noble Sextus heard, 
But scorn'd, — indignant, by a deed so base 
To sully honour, faith, and Pompey's fame. 
Let these poor heathens, then, (whose highest hope 
Was earth's applause and perishable crown ; 
Whose best reward for keeping duty's path 
Was contemplation of their own deserts,) 
Teach the young classic ne'er to leave the road 
That leads directly to the shrine of God, 
E'en to engross the friendship of a world. 
Heir of high hopes beyond the reach of thought, 
By obligation 'bove expression bound, 
Be it his pray'r that ev'ry step may be 
Obedience, and his paths observance true ; 
That God, who spies them in the highest noon 
Or deepest midnight, may, where'er he turn, 
Smile on his footsteps nor avert His face. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 13 



THE AREOPAGUS. 



Should we the worth of courts discuss, 
The court of Areopagus, 
Of judgment-halls in time gone by, 
Demands a panegyric high. 
Doubtless its constitution rare 
Deserv'd of fame uncommon share. 
In sadly hyperbolic strain 
Has Tully ventur'd to maintain, 
That mortals could as well dispense 
With Jove's protecting providence, 
As Athens with the conclave just, 
In which so long she plac'd her trust. 
While sat that court in open air, 
No taper's light was beaming there 
In splendid hall or gay saloon, 
Mocking day's meridian noon ; 
But overhead the Grecian sky 
Outspread a spangled canopy, 



14 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Where purely beam'd the silver star, 
Emblem of that majestic bar. 
Beneath the vesper's darkling screen 
Accuser nor accus'd were seen. 
The judge, in judgment, thus was free 
From spite and partiality; 
His rightful verdict never staid, 
By deference to person paid : 
The pleader there, by sophist-art, 
Essay'd not to seduce the heart 
To favour or compassion ; bound 
The sacred depth of truth to sound, 
He durst not from its limit stray, 
Nor lead the mind from sense away, # 
Using the rhetorician's wile 
The erring judgment to beguile. 
Inflexible as bar of steel, 
This court permitted no appeal. 
That orator, whose mighty flow 
Of diction by the forge's glow 

* ^E^oj re irpdyfxaros Aeytiv. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 15 

Was first outpour'd, avers, indeed, 

For this existed little need ; 

Since of their countless clients, none 

Arraign'd them of injustice done; 

Not even those, whose guilt reveal'd, 

The judge by punishment had seal'd. # 

As sanguine youth's impetuous age 

Required a stricter tutelage, 

Athens consign'd her sons at large, 

Her holiest treasure, to their charge, 

By law and moral's steady rein 

Their wild excesses to restrain. 

Athenians of every grade 

Were bound to designate the trade, 

Employment, or profession, whence 

Accrued their daily competence. 

In duty thus and honour men 

Vied, citizen with citizen; 

Each anxious that his life profest 

Should bear the strict judicial test. 

Such was the Attic court, I ween ; 

Through many an age it great had been, 

* 'Hrrdofj-euoi repyecnv 'o/xotus toTs K€Kp6.r7]Ko<nv . — Arist, 



16 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Had not the canker, deep and sore, 
Of dire corruption reach'd its core. 



Such judicature strict within his breast 
Let ev'ry man implant. The Christian state 
As much requires it, as the Attic weal 
Their Areopagus. Without its curb 
Life's rebel passions will amain o'ervault 
All legal barriers, human and divine. 
O, be the heart an Areopagic rock,* 
On which enthron'd sits Conscience as the judge- 
Not a usurper, but a judge by right, 
Beneath whose trusty guardianship and care 
The giddy turbulence of youth may rest. 
Sense, with its wily and seductive train 
Of evil counsellors and suitors base, 
Must at this bar no pleading be allow'd. 
At this tribunal be each action scann'd 
Of ev'ry member of the private weal ; 
If its demeanor tally with the Law, 

* Areopagitica petra. — Ennius, 






OF THE CLASSICS. 17 

Writ by the finger of Celestial Grace, 
Deep in the fleshy tablet of the heart ; 
Whether from day to day our gain in Grace 
Be honest, and our spiritual riches shine 
True gospel-coin or counterfeit alloy ; 
Whether our title to a free estate 
In Christ's inheritance be true or forg'd. 
As Areopagites, in night conceal'd, 
Unbiass'd by spectator's sight or eye, 
Decided truly each debated point ; 
So in the midnight hour let Conscience hold 
Its dark communion, and uninfluenc'd be 
In just decision by thy views of man, 
Or by man's view ; but solely by the Eye, 
That Eye all-seeing, that no darkness veils. 
Then shall its sentence never need appeal, 
Directed truly by one only court 
Superior: thus Heav'n's Chancery is sav'd 
A lengthen'd trial on the fearful day. 






18 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 



THE GOLDEN AGE. 



The sixth day clos'd, the topmost stone was laid : 

His glorious work the Architect survey 'd. 

All, from the centre to the starry bound, 

Not merely " good, but very good " he found : 

Consummate beauty's fresh perfection grac'd 

With perfect goodness all his fingers trac'd. 

The bright perfection of the seventh morn 

Displays a contrast to our age forlorn : 

We, in creation's drear, autumnal stage, 

Should ever emulate its infant age, 

When round our sinless globe with hallow'd tone 

The morning stars their Alleluia sung. 

As evil then had no existence found 

On earth, and all the myriad spheres around, 

So, as creator of thy moral sphere, 

Allow to evil no existence here : 

For grace, in Joseph's saving words, to say 

" How can I do this sin?" unceasing pray. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 19 

Soon will ' impossible/ as taught by him, 

With thee become ' unlawful's ' synonyme ; 

And Mercy's ' do not ' will as much control 

As the Law's 'shalt not/ Satan in thy soul. 

Contented, Adam view'd with grateful sense 

The first creation of Omnipotence ; 

Till in creation he his talent tried 

In evil hour, impell'd by evil pride ; 

As if Creation's goodness to contrast, 

His creature was the monster i Sin ' at last. 



ET TU QUOQUE, BRUTE ! 



Kcu av renvoi 1 . 



The scorching simoom's blast of death, 
The fell miasma's fever'd breath, 

The torrent rattling down, 
With ruin's flood to drench the fields, 
And hope, that golden harvest yields, 

In second deluge drown ; 
c2 



20 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

The hurricane and rending gale, 
That use the mountain and the vale 

And ocean as their stage, 
Whereon, as actors, they perform 
Their drama of terrific storm, 

And furious battle wage ; 

The dismal cloud of jetty hue, 

That shrouds the sky's delicious blue, 

And saddens Nature's face, 
Through which at noon the solar ray 
Struggles in vain to win a way, 

And Melancholy chase ; 

The lightning bolt, that splits the rock, 
Or rends the globe with startling shock; 

The meteor's omen dread, — 
All own alike one parent, Earth, 
From whom alone they spring to birth, 

In her conceiv'd and fed : 



OF THE CLASSICS. 

So ills and sorrows, great and small, 
Our curses and our crosses all, 

Derive not pedigree 
From Heav'n, but from man alone,* 
Within whose heart their root is grown 

Of genealogy. 

Since, then, in man's the bitter root, 
So must on man the bitter fruit 

Fall rotten-ripe from high. 
The full-grown tree so densely weaves 
Its canopy of sorrow's leaves, 

They darken pleasure's sky. 

Say, does remorse, in thrilling smart, 
With keenest poniard pierce thy heart ? 

Remorse perchance a son 
Or cherish'd nursling will be found, 
That, Brutus-like, inflicts the wound 
By which thou bleed'st, undone ! 

;{ Nee quisquam Ajacem possit superare, nisi Ajax." — Ovid. 



21 



22 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Thine arrow, shot at Heav'n, expect 
Will seek again in line direct 

Its archer's very spot : 
Should sorrow's shaft assail thy head, 
Remember, from thy quiver sped, 

That impious barb was shot. 



LETHE. 



Alexander and Darius— Antony, Augustus, and Cleopatra. 



Best can the classic tyro tell 
The answer of the Oracle, 
Whence Thetis learnt her infant's name 
Would blazon bright the roll of fame, 
As great Achilles doom'd to shine 
The deathless theme of Homer's line ; 
How, plung'd in Lethe's flood, his frame 
Invulnerable by man became, 
The heel except, that on the strand 
The goddess-mother held in hand, 



OF THE CLASSICS. 23 

To fate submissive as she stood 
To plunge him in oblivion's flood. 
The sequel tells how, vainly lav'd, 
From sword and spear the child was sav'd, 
Since, in the prime of manhood's health, 
A rankling arrow, wing'd by stealth, 
Stuck in the spot unwetted fast, 
And kill'd the demi-god at last. 



The human soul, immortal and divine, 
Hence immaterial, by material barb, 
Engine nor batt'ry can a wound sustain : 
Alone, through Adam, sin its essence mars. 
This seems so dyed and twisted in the thread, 
That weaves the web of faculty and thought, 
That, while encas'd within the leprous clay, 
No mortal art enchanter can devise 
To make the clay a panoply of proof. 
What, though no Lethe, as in days of yore, 
Can render it invulnerable by sin ; 
Yet flows a rivulet, Repentance nam'd, 



24 



SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 



Whose crystal wave can cleanse its blackest spot 
When fully bath'd, — albeit sin, once done, 
Undo it cannot ; with detergence fraught, 
It laves the sin-spot till the taint is gone, 
As it had never been. # By poets feign'd, 
What is the Paynim bard's Lethean tide, 
That bless'd the drinker with oblivion's charm, 
But the Bethesda of repentant tears, 
Blotting from tablet of the new-born soul, 
With sweet oblivion, sin and sorrow past ? 
But as Lethean liquid could infuse 
Its virtue solely to the wetted part, 
So must the scratch, howe'er minute, of sin 
In penitential bathings well be drench'd : 
Then use this recipe when smarts the wound. 
Each special spot that mem'ry brings to view, 
Well in the stream of deep repentance wash : 
But, above all, note well the major stains; 
In washing them the minor disappear. 
Next plunge the whole man in with David's pray'r, 
" The Lord have mercy on my secret sins ;" 
* Factum quasi infectum. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 25 

Nor suffer Satan, Thetis-like, to hold 
Thy mental frame, and leave a spot unlav'd, 
Where of eternal death his dart may pierce. 
As fled Darius with his Persian host 
Before the Macedonian phalanx, first 
In the hot chase was Alexander borne.* 
Vainly the sheen of silver, gold and gems, 
Neglected baubles, gleam' d upon his eye ; 
(Spurn'd by Bucephalus the turf they deck'd, 
On hilt and helm of dying and of dead.) 
Bent was his soul the foremost to outstrip, 
And clutch the flying monarch in his grasp ; 
The king, the king, appear'd his only aim, 
Although thereby the spoil behind him left 
And rearward prisoners he more surely won. 
So did Augustus not so much denounce 
War against Antony, his passions' slave, 
As Egypt's queen, who manacled his mind. 

* Plutarch in Vita Alex. Thus, also, was Labienus equally 
urgent for the death of Indutiomarus, the ringleader. " Praecipit 
atque interdicit.. ..omnes unum peterent Indutiomarum." — " Neu 
quis quemquam prius vulneraret quam ilium interfectum videret." 



26 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

In Spirituals thus against the ruling sin, 
The Cleopatra that o'erqueens the soul, 
Our might direct : with Alexander then 
We soon outstrip and captivate the rest. 
Well was it said that Nero's death was vain, 
While Otho liv'd in turpitude as vile. # 
Firm was the creed of by-gone heathen time 
That mortal men, from cradle to the tomb, 
Had each their genius or daemon shade ; 
And modern science,f following Scripture, shows 
One king-corruption rules each mother's son, 
That boasts of victory in constant train. 
Where the time-braving pyramids uprear'd 
Fling their broad shade o'er desolation's sand, 
A soothsayer told the valiant Antony 
His guardian genius would be bold and brave, 
Till near the daemon of Augustus came ; 
And hence he urg'd the General to shun 
Companionship, for elsewhere, though not there, 
He might be victor, nor his fortune's sun 

* " Frustra m oritur Nero, si Otho vivit." — Tacit, lib. i. Hist. 
f Craniology. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 27 

Eclips'd by Csesar. Thus the precincts shun 
Of the o'erpow'ring demon of thy soul, — 
Not of thyself, but of triumphant Grace ! 
Say, what requires the warrior's steadier skill, 
Than foil his foe-man flush'd with victory ? 
Fly, then ! oh, fly ! retreat and overcome, 
For flight in Spirituals is conquest sure. 



NO HEART, NO HOPE. 



The vestal fire— Numa's shield— Palladium of Troy— Lock of Nisus. 



The fatal ides of March were nigh, 
Fraught with a hero's destiny. 
As Julius at the altar stood, 
Off 'ring atonement's typic blood, 
A priest declar'd, with sudden start, 
" One of the victims lack'd a heart ; " 
A fearful omen, rare and rife 
With peril to the hero's life : 



28 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

For beast to live devoid of heart, 



Life's mystic spring and motive part, 13 
The first to live and last to die, 
Appears in truth a prodigy. 



As then the viewless wheels of life's machine, 

Of main-spring reft, must vital movement cease ; 

So Spiritual existence must become 

Dead, nay impossible, devoid of heart. 

Here bodes not heartless sacrifice, but shows 

Service and servitor in trespass dead ; 

Nay, in God's nostrils the unwholesome stench 

Declares it worse than carcase long inhum'd. 

A Spirit must in spirit be ador'd : 

As said of pray'r, so truly be it said 

Of ev'ry service offer'd to His pow'r, — 

'Tis not the number on the bead-roll told,f 

The trope of eloquence, nor wordy strength 

Of learned syllogism ; but Davidian glow 

Of heartfelt love, that pray'r acceptance gains. 

* " Primum vivens, ultimum moriens." — Arist. 

f " Deus affectu quam effectu raagis delectatur."— Ambrosius, 



OF THE CLASSICS. 29 

Who to the altar brings profession's shell, 
Without the solid kernel of the heart, 
But mocks the Spirit, and such ofT'ring smells 
In Satan's nostrils sweetest incense : he 
Will not forget the hypocrite's reward. 
The regent cities of the ancient world 
Had each some tutelar protection shrin'd 
Their fanes within ; and while it safe remain'd, 
City and citizen were assail'd in vain.* 
Such was Rome's vestal fire, by virgins fed ; 
Such Numa's shield, and erst to Homer's Troy 
The priz'd Palladium ; such the purple lock 
That Nisus f bore amid his curls of snow. 
Now, ev'ry tenant of the Christian pale 
Is heir-apparent to an empire born : 
Be it his caution that his government 
May not confused democracy become, 
Where rule the rabble of base common lusts, 

* " Secreta quaedam imperii pignora." — Fl&rus. 
t " . . . . cui splendidus ostro 

Inter honoratos medio de vertice canos 

Crinis inheerebat." — Ovid. 



30 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Blent by the " atheist, tiger, and buffoon." 

Within himself his empire's limits lie : 

In warfare spiritual he must expect 

Incessant foes, and, as he fights his way, 

The dazzling sun of lucre in his eyes, 

With blinding dust of gilded rottenness 

And specious pleasures, in battalia deep, 

Marshall'd against him by the Prince of Air, 

With disadvantage of the lower ground. 

That wily foe, alas ! his cloven foot 

Has set, not merely on the out-work strong, 

But 'leagur'd so the citadel, the heart, 

That its recesses are already won : 

Yet, in a secret nook, while bides unscath'd, 

Sincerity # in Christ his Master's cause, 

That vestal fire, Ancile, and the sole 

Palladium, the fort shall Satan foil. 

Let but that shield, descended from above, 

* A sincere desire to know and do God's holy will. (This word 
may be derived from cvv Krjpi, though by some from < sine eera,' 
without wax, in allusion to pure virgin-honey, without the comb. 
Hence, by an elegant trope, it implies pure life-honey, as from sin- 
cerity life derives its purest sweets.) 



OF THE CLASSICS. 



31 



By Faith's strong arm be plac'd there, 'twill maintain 

The fight 'gainst foes ; but haply ravish'd thence, 

The Christian fortress soon defenceless lies. 

The frantic storm, loud bellowing round the globe, 

Earth cannot injure, till within its breast 

It wins an entrance, whence with convulse dread 

It makes the Spirit-laid foundations quake : 

So, while the spiritual Palladium bides 

Within the fortress of the Christian's heart, 

Around may bluster Pandemonian hosts, 

That fortress ever will unhurt remain. 




32 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 



TU NE CEDE MALIS . . FESTINA LENTE, etc. 



Principes— Hastati— Triarii — Antaeus— Hannibal— Cannae— Augustus. 



The Romans on the battle-ground 
Mars and Bellona fickle found ; 
Victoria, changing as the gale, 
Their early fields would often fail. 
Nathless, they strove to win her eye, 
Though constant in inconstancy. 
Rejected, they the suit renew'd, 
The goddess coy with vows pursued, 
Who smil'd at last, though courted long, 
And made her home their swords among. 
Her favour grac'd their trophied plain 
With brilliant triumph's rapid train ; 
Soon, streaming o'er a prostrate world, 
Their crimson pennon was unfurl 'd : 
Thus, in inconstancy begun, 
At last was boundless empire won. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 

They lov'd in battle to combine 
Their marshall'd host in triple line. 
The foremost of the dread array 
With pond'rous piles began the fray ; 
And oftentimes victorious prov'd, 
Ere yet a pace the rest had mov'd, 
That haply stood spectators by, 
To share a bloodless victory. 
When the first line disorder'd fled, 
Behind the second rank it sped ; 
When both, with double might amain, 
The gory strife renew'd again. 
If their united prowess fail'd, 
Behind the third awhile they quail'd ; 
Till, with resistless shock, the three 
Charg'd on to certain victory, 
Deeming their cause in fortune's lurch, 
Did victory forbear to perch 
Once on their soaring eagle's head, 
While thrice the bold divisions bled. 
Like him, with Hercules who strain'd, 
By ev'ry fall they vigour gain'd. 

D 



33 



34 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Matching the Roman lines of old, 

The Christian soldier, stout and bold, 

Strong from repulse must hold the fight, 

And foil his ghostly foeman's might ; 

Nor presently a captive yield 

The Spirit's trusty sword and shield. 

If foil'd, with double might again 

Let him essay the battle-plain ; 

By disadvantage circumspect 

His vantage-ground, regain'd, protect. 

Twice — thrice, repuls'd he must endure, 

Of final victory secure, 

Not, o'er a waning ball of clay, 

To win the sceptre of a day, 

Or man's ephemeral renown ; 

But Glory's bright eternal crown, 

If he continue to the end 

His captain's banner to defend. 



Until the end, — 

" In that the task, in that the labour lies ;" 



OF THE CLASSICS. 

Follow up victory, or its trump may prove, 
Though sweet, the presage of the dying swan, 
Dire as the Syrens' ruin-courting lay. 
Flight in the moral, as the tented field, 
Is oft a Parthian counterfeit to lure 
The flush'd pursuer into ambush'd snare ; 
Where he must writhe, inextricably held 
From glory's chase. 'Gainst Hannibal of old 
The known upbraidment is to victors made, 
11 They know to win, not use the trophied field." 
When, after Cannse's sanguinary day, 
Or dead, or captive, were the Roman bands, 
(By one field finish'd war's terrific strife,) 
By that one oversight of false repose, 
By one, for iron war admits no more, 
Not only Rome the laurell'd hero lost, 
Who bare and bleeding at his mercy lay, 
But native Carthage, that became a slave. 
In Spirituals, methinks, is well exprest 
Vict'ry's slight nature by the i day is won ; * 
A day, indeed how brief, oft folio w'd close 
By night dark ling'ring, where dread perils lurk, 
More numerous far than in embattled plains. 
d2 



35 



36 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Let not the victor on success presume, 

Lest, mad in fancied might, he drive his car, 

Rashness and Fury its ungovern'd steeds, 

Reckless upon his enemy's strong guard ; 

And, while he weens their prostrate necks will pave 

A causeway for his chariot's blood- stain'd wheel, 

Find, by a fall among his fellow-crumbs 

Of dust, how perilous is victory's flush. 

Yet must the hero spear nor harness doff, 

Nor, Hannibal-like, enjoy inactive rest, 

As if the rust were destin'd on the hinge 

Of Janus to accumulate in peace 

Till Heav'n's last thunders shall convulse the world. 

No ! let the Christian militant beware 

The lethargy * of idleness : it ever tempts 

Sin's ghostly captain to encounter new. 

He loves to strike the victor in his sleep ; 

Him no neglect or oversight escapes.^ 

1 Watch, then, and pray ' 'tween indolence and haste 

The golden mean of diligence to keep, 

And, with Augustus, ever ' slowly speed.' 

* a AtjOti & apyfys. 
f " Imminet semper occasioni suae Diabolus." — Gregorius. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 37 



EX LOCO LABOR. 



Aristotle's notions respecting weight and fire. 



Well has an Attic * sage exprest, 

" Things in their proper place have rest ; " 

Thus weight itself would be, 
At the earth's centre, weight no more, 
Nought being to the central core 

But constant tendency. 

And fire, he said, " is restless here, 
Because, beneath its proper sphere, 

It upwards f would ascend ; " 
And rages, till above our air, 
With its congenial essence there 

In harmony it blend. 

* Aristotle, 
f " Ignea vis summa locum sibi legit in arce." — Ovid. 



38 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Ne'er marvel that the sinner's breast 
By loads of sin is highly prest ; 

Sin there enjoys its home, 
Its cradle and its proper place, 
Whence, till expell'd by sov'reign Grace, 

It never seeks to roam. 

Plac'd by the Lord one scale within, 
So monstrous is the weight of sin, 

The smallest one would seem 
The whole creation to outweigh, 
Should He it in the other lay, 

Until it ' strike the beam.' 

Though scarlet sins be multiplied 
Till stars in number be outvied, 

They cumber not the breast; 
Nor clog the merry sinner's mirth 
More than the circling disk of earth, 

The centre of its rest. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 39 

Since soulless matter in its place 
Can only rest, the heart in Grace 

Beneath a changing moon 
Will not set up its rest and home, 
But long to Heav'n's holiest dome 

To bound enraptur'd soon. 

This globe is not the soul's right sphere, 
" No biding place of rest is here ;" 

Let him that rests beware, 
Lest his appointed place should be 
A restless, drear eternity 

Of horror and despair. 



40 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 



HONOS ONUS 



Julian and Constantius — Socrates — Damocles — Herodotus — Ass of Isis. 



The trinity that worldly men adore, 

Pow'r, Wealth, and Pleasure, in abundance dwell 

Within the jewell'd circlet of a crown : 

Nought strange the diadem to man is dear ! 

Ambition ever, since his course began, 

Has borne this motto on his crimson shield ; 

" Get empire, — empire get at any price." # 

In bloody panoply Ambition strides 

The reeking ruins of his father-land 

Mid rifled altars and polluted shrines, 

Recking no more the temple overthrown 

Than hut or hamlet, f Oft his project fell 

As much by sacrilege as victory won, 

* Imperium quolibet pretio constat bene. 
■f Eadem strages moenium et templorum, tot sacrilegia quot tro- 
phsea, tot de Diis quot de gentibus triumphi. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 41 

As oft by impious triumph over God 

As trophies over man, — by dread impiety 

And massacre. Yes ! Ambition's eye, 

Charm'd with the dazzling jewels of a crown, 

Sees not its weight. Man deems its purchase cheap, 

Not at ten, twenty, or a thousand years, 

But phrenzied buys it with eternity. 

From classic writ aspiring souls may learn 

A useful lesson to rebuke their pride. 

When Julian,* by high Constantius hail'd 

Imperial Csesar, in empurpled robe 

Enter'd the palace of the vanquish'd earth, 

He whisper'd to himself, as record tells, 

A master-moral from Homeric verse : 

" Beneath my purple robe f pale death and fate 

Imperial lurk. "J Well said the Attic sage,§ 

Gold, silk, and purple seem for tragedies 

A meet attire. The hero of the stage 

Sparkling, in these habiliments array'd, 

* Ammianus Marcellinus. 

■f "EA\aj8e iropcpvpzos Qavdros k<x\ fxoipa Kparai'd. 

t " Alieno Galba imperio felicior quam suo." — Tacit. Hist. lib. i. 

§ Socrates. 



42 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

But personates those golden, purple men 

Who dye life's stage with gore, or cumber it 

With corses. Ah, no fiction is his theme, 

Like Comedy's, but sadly real truth ! 

In glory's highest noon so blended meet 

Grandeur and woe, the favourite would seem 

Unhappiest far amid unhappy men. 

Fam'd Marius* spent beneath the willow shade 

His happiest hour. The fallacies of pomp 

By Damocles f (the tale is trite) well proven are. 

Where shone the gilded couch of high estate, 

In gorgeous vest, with gems and gold array'd, 

He loll'd supine : ambitious of his nod 

In mute array the shining pages stood, 

With anxious handmaids of angelic form : 

The table groan'd beneath the viands rich 

And varied, brought from earth's remotest shore : 

Charm'd were his ears by melting melodies, 

And ev'ry sense deliciously entranc'd 

By high perfection and quintessence true 

* Marius inter salices felicissimus. 
f Plutarch, Vit. Dionis. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 43 

Of sensual objects. But above his head 
What ray outshines the yellow torch's light ? 
Is it the lightning from Minerva's spear 
That mars his startling vision ? No ! a speck, 
A point minute ; yet from it to the heart 
A ray shot piercing as the barb of death. 
See ! glitt'ring o'er his head precisely hangs 
A weighty falchion, pendant by a hair : 
One single hair the tiny barrier hangs 
Between our fav'rite and eternity. 
Wilder'd at the sight, see Damocles reel, 
Giddy from joy's most elevated height, 
At one fell plunge to misery's abyss ! 
But grant, in blind stolidity of pride 
The point escapes his eye, himself he hugs 
Out-braving fortune, till with revelries 
He shake the fretted ceiling ; — from its hold 
Glances the piercing glaive, and deeply drinks 
Life's circling current. Let the peasant, then, 
Safe 'neath the covert of his native thatch, 
Thankful survey the towering mountain top ; 
And, should he see the vivid lightning rive 



44 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Its cloud-tipt summit,* bless the happy day- 
He was not nestled on Ambition's crag, 
But born the tenant of the shelter'd vale.f 
The sire of history tells, that Heav'n itself 
Seems envious of aught too highly rais'd.^ 
Honour's high branches, even propp'd by pow'r, 
On high upheld by virtue's firmest stem, 
Oft by the tempest are but rudely tost ; 
And envy ever, with mephitic breath, 
Would blight the blossom and corrupt the fruit. 
Why, then, for honour sigh ? a word that lies 
Much in opinion, that enchanted isle, 
That floats unbas'd, the Delos of the mind ? 
The breath of mutability, whose disposer sole 
And owner is the hydra-headed lord, 
A daw in borrow'd braveries, or filch'd ; 
Whose gaudy plumes restor'd to honest men, 

* " Feriunt summos fulmina montes 

Procul a Jove, procul a fulmine." — Horace. 

f " Tangunt magnos tristia fata deos." — Ovid. 
£ " Opas 8e ws is olKrifxara to /j.4yis~a ae\ Kal SeVSpea to TOLairr' 
airoo-icnTrhi jSeAea ; (piXeei -yap o debs ra (nrepexovla iravra no\aW 
eVectv 6 6ebs <pQovr]o~as" etc. — Herodotus. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 45 

Would leave the bearer destitute indeed. 
Honour on virtue bas'd # is honour true : 
Then worship not the idol on the back, 
But mark the bearer, and to his deserts 
Thy homage pay ; for if to circumstance 
And not to worth thy courtesies be paid, 
Then will the worthless haply bring to mind 
The ass, that carrying I sis to her shrine 
Deck'd by her votaries, deem'd, in fond conceit, 
The fawning; homage of the crouching crow T d 
To him was rendered, not the load divine, 
The radiant goddess, smiling on his back. 

* Honor in honorante " Nobilitas sola atque unica est 

virtus." — Juvenal. 



Cj "% c j 



Ma 



46 SFIRITUAL APPLICATION 



LEX CURRAT SALICA.* 



Hercules and Omphale— Hannibal— Antony and Cleopatra— River Arar- 
Scylla and Charybdis. 



Where, in the drama of poetic life, 
Heroes and demi-gods parade the stage, 
Wanders the Muse a moral point to find. 
First, in the scene she views great Hercules 
Bedeck his brow with twelve triumphal wreaths 
Of fadeless laurel, emblems evergreen 
Of twelve imperishable deeds of fame ; 
Aw'd by whose mightiness the timid Muse 
Shrinks from the prospect, and forbears the tale. 
Anon, the changing scene the hero shows, 
Alas, nor demi-god nor hero now ! 
A spindle whirls beneath the potent hand, 
Quick at whose stroke all mortal barrier fled, 
As flits the gossamer on northern gales. 
Yes, at the beck of that imperial quean, 

* Le royaume de France ne tombe point en quenouille. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 47 

Mid slaves a slave, he plies the stinted task ; 
While in the trophies of his prowess wrapt 
Th' insulting minion insolently stmts, 
Trampling with tiny foot the scatter'd floor, 
Where glory's garlands with his honour fade. 
Each noble spirit will prevent my pen 
Awarding merited contempt and scorn 
To forfeiture so vile of former fame, 
So base prostration of his glorious self. 
In servitude effeminate beyond compare, 

And Be not hasty Hercules to judge !* 

Lest by the sentence thou condemn thyself. 

Wilt thou deny, with appellations chang'd, 

The hero's story may not be thine own ? 

But, fiction banish'd, History's mirror view : 

View Hannibal, whom nature strove in vain 

With snow-capt rock and thund'ring avalanche 

To curb awhile from victory's career. 

Broad Thrasymenus, Trebiae, Cannae's field, 

Where Rome's best champions 'neath his prowess bled, 

* " ?&ou pwn-ho-ao-eai, % S ixirfvatTOai."— facilius damnare quam 
non imitari. 



48 ' SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

With triple laurels had entwin'd his brow, 
But twin'd in vain. A Capua could blunt 
Vict'ry's best falchion by inaction's rust : 
His legions, enervate on luxury's breast, 
Soon of their glory but the sound retain'd. 
A spell long linger'd in that mighty sound, 
That paralys'd awhile the Roman arm, 
And sav'd the fallen soldier from the sword, 
Of other fence by luxury bereft. 
So surely all his martial glory marr'd, 
So lost, perchance, dominion of the globe 
Antonius* bold to Cleopatra's smile. 
Weakly at sea, where weakest was his pow'r, 
For her the strife at disadvantage fought 
He needless hazarded ; nay, to overtake 
Her flying gondola, ere Fortune fled, 
He fled the fray, though faithful to his arms 
Full many a legion f lin'd th' Egyptian shore. 
Such was his doom, and such of millions more, 
By dint of petty blandishment o'erthrown. 

* Plutarch, in Vita Antonii. 
f 100,000 foot and 12,000 horse.— Plutarch. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 49 

Surely their fate reminds us for a cloak 

The fabled combat 'twixt the wind and sun, 

When courting smiles and stealing warmth obtain'd 

What storm and batt'ry unavailing tried. 

Yes ! are there spirits in perverseness strong, 

Who fever'd nurse antipathy so fell 

To aught that savours of constraint or force, 

That e'en fruition profTer'd would they spurn 

Of sweetest hope and long forborne desire, 

Should it but wear the aspect of command. 

The soldier, press'd by battery and storm, 

Met might by might, and nullified their pow'r ; 

Yet, tempted, to a golden-pannier'd ass 

Op'd the small postern that betray'd the fort, 

Himself as well. Instructive Csesar speaks 

Of Gallic stream so exquisitely smooth, 

That eye exactest, by observance long, 

Could scarce decide the dubious current's way : 

Yet to that gentlest river's so small haste 

Let but a dam oppose a forced stay, 

Soon, loudly roaring like a troubled sea, 

Its waters, muster'd in resistless rage, 

E 



50 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Would burst the banks impatient of delay ; 
Or let a new, inviting channel ope, 
With murmuring music in meander mild, 
The trace it follows. Yes ! a wizard spell 
In small allurements fascinating lies, 
A spell that captivates the passive soul, 
While overt force by brave repulse is foil'd. 
More danger far the sweet temptation threats, 
Where bed and bow'r of rose and myrtle bloom 
Than fire and fagot, to the Christian soul : 
By such more Christians infinitely fell, 
Than erst by bigot persecution's rage. 
Well said the proverb, mortals never burnt 
With holier zeal for genuine gospel-truth, 
Than when the body burnt : indulgence then 
Unknown, when martyrs kiss'd the fire-pil'd stake, 
Whose holy blood was not the Church's wane, 
But seed and increase.* Be it ne'er forgot, 
In vain fell Scylla's breakers we escape, 
If in Charybdis sinks our hapless barque ; 
In vain with stalwart arm we hold the fight, 
* Sanguis martyrum semen ecclesiee. — Adagium. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 



51 



Hurling the l ghostly enemy ' from deck 
To save life's vessel from the gulf below, 
Forgetful that some tiny leak may prove 
Destruction's flood-gate to the careless soul. 



HOC AGE. 



Csesarem vehis. 



At home, abroad, in peace or war, 

It seem'd triumphant Caesar's law, 

Nought to neglect or leave undone, 

Whereby his purpose might be won ; 

To hazard nought, nor yield to chance 

And fortune means that might advance 

His cherish'd schemes, resolv'd to try 

All mortal plans for victory.*' 

But, though his judgment deep and right 

Defiance bade to fortune's might, 

* " semper feliciter usus, 

Praecipiti curru bellorum et tempore rapto." — Lucan. 

E 2 



52 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Yet on a day, when billow-tost 
His struggling barque was nearly lost, 
Nor longer durst the pilot brave 
The blended might of wind and wave, 
Julius on Fortune, as a friend, 
Durst with an earnest faith depend. 
" Pilot ! be firm, nor fear the gale ; 
Caesar and Caesar's fortunes sail, # 
The saving ballast of thy barque. 
Heed not the storm and waters dark : 
Faith in my fortunes will command 
A safe return to yonder strand." 
Thus, in thy Spiritual warfare brave, 
Work as if works alone could save ; 
But, in thy inmost soul, believe 
That works are nothing ; nor deceive 
Thy soul by thinking there is giv'n, 
Except by Faith, a road to heav'n. 

* " Caesarem vehis et fortunas ejus." 



OF THE CLASSICS. 53 

The very essence, note, of ev'ry grace 

In action lies ; without it, grace is nought : 

Faith, not a working faith, is faith in name. 

Fasting and pray'r, of charity bereft, # 

Are like the cut flow'r's evanescent bloom 

In crystal vase, or passing meteor's light. 

Well has philosophy of old affirm'd, 

" Fitness for use must ever constitute 

The essence of an instrument." f The eye 

By muscle, humour, pellicle, and nerve, 

Still more by mystic life, has vision's pow'r : 

Scarce can the death-clos'd eye J an eye be deem'd 

In man or beast, of action's main-spring reft. 

Say, is it matter, substance, fashion, shape 

Of man, that makes the man, or spark divine 

That animates the clay, of which bereft 

A soulless lump of matter he becomes ? 

* " Jejunium sine eleemosina, lampas sine oleo." — St. August. 

f " Instrumentorum essentia posita est in aptitudine ad usum." 
Arist. de Animd, lib, ii. cap. 4. 

£ But only ' oixovifioos.' — Arist. lib. iv. met. 17. Quoad nomen 

solum, non verd quoad definitionem Per materiam res est, sive 

existit, sed per formam id est^quod est. 



54 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Grace gives the habit, habit lives in act. 

Not that each grace is ever on the wing : 

The eye that winks or sleeps, is still an eye ; 

For though it see not, yet remains the pow'r. 

But, on occasion, should our graces show 

Acts duly qualified, we well infer 

The truth of grace within us, as in flint 

The pow'r of fire's indwelling is evinc'd, 

When darts the spark by fitting substance struck, 

Habits inspired then all out graces are, 

Not fruits, but roots, of all accepted acts. 

He that can true and faithfully make out 

One action really gracious in itself, 

Good and well done, may ever happy rest 

That in him dwells the habit of that grace, 

To which that act belongs. Who feels assur'd 

That one true grace of spirit is his own, 

May know that surely he possesses all. 

It is not being, but well-being, proves 

A Christian man to live. Let all his acts 

Cube-like be true, and squar'd by gospel-rule ; 

Good in themselves, for circumstance well-done. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 55 

Actions, though good, become the actor's crime, 
If from false principle # they proceed, or done 
For false or futile end by evil means. 
In judging acts, to end and circumstance 
The eye must turn ; too often will appear, 
Not merely works, but e'en devotion, sin, 
As done in pride, and not in saving faith. 
* Of self-salvation. 



MINERVA 



Again to Athens, lovely queen of Greece, 
Our varying measure we delighted turn. 
She art and science cradled and uprear'd, 
Fresh from the travail of the Muses sprung. 
Soon in immortal song her nurslings hail'd 
Minerva, tutelar goddess of the state, 
In mind and stature who, perfection born, 
Than Jupiter's brain no other parent knew. 
But not with her divinity alone 



56 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Could Attic sages sate their longing souls : 

Three thousand deities, by name ador'd, 

(Tis writ by Homer in undying lay,) # 

Receiv'd their adoration ; hence there liv'd 

No nation fierce, illiterate, and rude, 

In superstition more than Athens vain.f 

For hospitality to strangers fam'd, 

So to strange gods J she entertainment gave 

With boundless courtesy, till a countless crowd 

Had pass'd the open portals of her fanes. 

Nay, when unburied and uncounted lay 

Her children, blacken'd by the wrathful plague, 

One common altar to the gods§ she rear'd 

Of Europe, Asia, and Afric's land ; 

Yea, further sacred to the god unknown, 

Who might not haply o'er those realms preside, 

Lest his divinity might jealous glow, 

* Tp\s yap ixvpioL. 

t Sun, bread, increase, &c. Auxo and Thallo ab av^dvco 
et 0aAAw. — Strabo. 
J 'Adrjuaioi uxrirep T&epl ra aWa (piKo^evyvrts SiaTeAycTi ovtod teal 

urepl Tys 0eas. — Strabo. 
§ 0EO12 Acrias nal Evpanrr)s Ka\ Aifivrjs 0e<£ ayvwra) na\ zevep. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 57 

In dedication were his name forgot. 

In fine, the number of the gods ador'd 

To thrice ten thousand rose, # and yet not all 

Found comprehension in the vast amount. 

Anon, from step to step the Attic sage 

The highest turret of Invention climb'd ; 

From whose aspiring battlement he view'd 

The circle of his science wide expand, 

Till its horizon faded into mist. 

Without its precinct, infinitely far, 

Dwelt the Unknown and Ever-living God, 

Though fancied deities, in crowds ador'd, 

Haunted the area of its known expanse. 

What though by Nature's light espied the sage 

One Uncreated, who created all ; 

Yet, when he tried that Essence to explore, 

The highest pitch his reason could ascend 

Was that fallacious atmosphere where dwelt 

His feign'd Minerva, bantling of the brain. 

Well has the Roman orator remark'd, 

How much more easy 'twere to disprove all 

* Varro. 



58 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

He knew, or fancied, than by reason find 

The great Creator. Cicero confess'd * 

How boundlessly beyond the highest heav'n 

To which proud reason soars on eagle-wing. 

Abides th' Eternal, Uncreated " Jah." 

No marvel, truly, that the fleshly wise 

Seem rarely call'd, infatuate who love 

Each his Minerva, creature of his thought ; 

Who all their sacrifice and incense burn 

To fancy's godhead, as did Greece of old. 

Yet, granted human learning + is a ray 

Of Deity, by Him at first convey'd 

Through Adam to Methusaleh and Noah, 

From Noah to Hebrews and Chaldean fam'd, 

Whence, thro' the Egyptian, ancient Greece and Rome 

And modern nations have receiv'd its light ; 

But though unquestionable its high descent, 

Though true it lights us to a fountain-head 

Whence all things flow, yet of that fountain lock'd 

* " Utinam verum tam facile invenire possem quam falsa 
convincere." 

"T " ©eoy T&oitiv e| avdpwire Kara rb SwaTov." — Hierocles. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 

Man, by such light, could never mould the key 
To ope the covers, and discern ' wherewith ' 
To draw the water from its hidden depth, — 
That living water, which from heav'n alone 
One hand can reach, the ever-gracious hand 
Of Jesus, the eternal, only Son. 
As at his natal morn and glorious death 
The Pagan oracles were heard no more, # 
So, when the soul in Him is newly born, 
The oracles of flesh are voiceless all, 
Its carnal reasonings for ever hush'd, 
No longer thrall'd by worldly wisdom's chain. 
This must be quitted at the mountain-foot, 
On whose bright summit bliss eternal reigns, 
As Abraham left his asses and his slaves : 
With such incumbrance up the craggy steep, 
In vain we tempt " the strait and narrow way." 

* " Delphis oracula cessant." — Juvenal. 



59 



60 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 



JEHOVAH 



Oft have I seen the tyro trace 

Within a copy's narrow space 

The letters of the alphabet, 

In due symmetric order set. 

If true the tale, historians say 

The Iliad in a nut-shell lay. 

Yet, stranger far than this it seems, 

Within a copy's scant extremes 

The elements condens'd should lie, 

That form the whole world's history ; 

And thus a single line should be 

The human mind's epitome. 

'Tis strange again, the line may yet 

In briefer boundaries be set, 

And the five tiny vowels found 

Through all the world expression's bound. 

Yes ! all the syllables of all 

The words, on earth's revolving ball, 



OF THE CLASSICS. 61 

To Babel's varied language known, 
Living or dead, their functions own 
In word or sentence, and derive 
Their pow'r of utt'rance from the five. 
Strange, when these vowels coalesce, 
With near precision they express 
Of mighty words that mightiest word 
I E h O U A,* the Eternal Lord. 
The term Jehovah hence must be, 
In import and in pedigree, 
And in the letters of its frame, 
The Lord's unique and proper name. 



These premises admitted, is there aught 

Pen writes, tongue utters, or the mind conceives, — 

Aught, from heav'n's grandest and remotest orb 

To microscopic atom, but derives 

For every syllable, that sounds its name, 

A vowel from this store-house, borrowing 

As 'twere its heart and life. Hence all the names 

That designate Creation's ev'ry part 

* " Deductum enim a radice ' haiah' fuit, sicque symbolum est illius 
'Entis,' quod essentia et causa est aliis omnibus." — Wollebius 



62 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

And parcel will, together duly summ'd, 

But form Jehovah's varied anagram. 

Thus all created things, phonetic, show 

Something of Him. And as this mighty name 

Is to man's countless race the fontanel 

Of speech and syllable, it speaks ' I AM ' 

The great First Cause, the wond'rous 'All in All.'* 

Moreover, as this name of names is free 

From all incumbrance of gross consonants, 

(Those dry and pow'rless skeletons of speech 

Till an enliv'ning vowel bids them breathe,) 

So is Jehovah's life most purely pure, 

Simple, incomplicate,i- of which a part 

Doth he communicate to all that live. 

Above all derivations be it our's 

To trace out this : let not the student deem 

He knows the scope of aught till this is known. 

If, haply roving o'er the pleasing plain 

Of Science, should discern his curious eye 

Some tiny streamlet unexplor'd before, 

* " Causa absolute prima et 6\us, 6\ou, totus in se, totus in 

omnibus, totus in singulis, totus extra omnia." 

f " Vita Dei est simplicissima et infinite." — Wollebius. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 63 

O ! be it his with restless zeal to trace 

Its dubious winding to the fountain-head 

Of great Jehovah. Of this point assur'd, 

His steps retracing by its widening banks, 

Let him with zeal pursue its downward flow 

To some main channel ; and still onward trace 

Its broad-spread waters, till at last they reach 

The fathomless, illimitable main 

Of Wisdom unimaginable, whence 

The distant head-spring's borrow'd waters sprung. 

Nor let him dream by reason's plumb and scale 

Ever to mete the depth, or length, or breadth 

Of that broad tide ' beyond all finding out.' 

Thus will the student make the mighty AM 

His Alpha and Omega of emprise. 

Be this his aim ; for grant that Genius trace 

The tree of science to its deepest root, 

Climb to its topmost bough and cull the fruit ; 

Grant of all terms in science and in song 

He know the etymons and criticisms ; 

Nought but a chair such erudition gains 

In Learning's petty school. But should he make 

Jehovah outset and Jehovah end 



64 SPIRITUAL APPLICATION 

Of each essay, gleaning, from day to day, 

From all his works of mercy and of love 

Both in Creation and Redemption, he 

Will soon in Christ's academy be known 

No undergraduate. In such practiser 

Jehovah's likeness, too, renew'd will shine. 

Then not alone his body will contain 

(So oft declar'd by learned sage to be 

The world's epitome and microcosm) 

An uncial vowel of his Maker's name ; 

But soon by holiness his soul divine 

Jehovah's image will reflected show. 

Oft let him careful search, and should he find 

Within his breast those priceless gifts of Heav'n, # 

* Clearness of mind with rectitude of will/ 

The student may in faith believe himself 

God's real image, — infinitely small, 

But still not counterfeit; and thence enjoy 

Rightful dominion over all below, 

As far inferior, to which alone 

He from this image can a title gain. 

* Imaginis Dei dona. 



OF THE CLASSICS. 65 

PARAPHRASE OF 

THE GENERAL THANKSGIVING. 



Sovereign Lord, of boundless might ! 
Father of mercies infinite ! 
To Thee, all goodness, Lord ! to Thee 
We, all unworthy, bend the knee, 
Our humblest, heartiest praise to sing 
For ev'ry blessing, gracious King ! 
By thy loving-kindness giv'n 
To us, and all men under heav'n. 

We bless Thee for our vital breath ; 
We bless thy saving aid from death ; 
We bless Thee for our earthly bliss, 
But more a thousand times for this 
Thy last, best, gift of matchless love, 
For Glory's hope in heav'n above, 
And for the grace Thou dost afford 
Through Jesus Christ, Redemption's Lord, 



66 EPITAPH. 

Lord ! fill our hearts with truest sense, 
To praise Thee for thy Providence ! 
Grant we may not with lips alone, 
But in our lives thy glory own. 
Grant in thy service, day by day, 
Our feet may tread Salvation's way 
Through Christ ; to whom all glory be 
And honour, Triune Lord, with Thee ! 



IBpttap!) on a Young anfc Ftrtuous JFrienfc. 



While melting Pity owns with streaming eye, 
Remorseless Death, ' Here is thy victory ! ' 
Where Virtue's scion, in his vernal bloom 
Blighted by death, lies mould'ring in the tomb ; 
His soul immortal soars to heav'n sublime, 
1 Triumphant over Death, the World, and Time/ 
By seraphs wafted to his place of rest, 
In bliss to slumber on his Saviour's breast. 



Part » 



THE 



PROSERPINE 



(GIL. AW ID) I A ML 



TRANSLATED INTO 



ENGLISH VERSE 



PREFACE 



That the epithets "stale, flat, and unprofitable" are con- 
stantly applied, in the present day, to classical transla- 
tions, is undeniable. The great Leviathan of literature, 
whose dictum so long decided the fate of compositions, 
declared, "that though they might be endured, they could 
not, by any means, be favoured." In despite of these sad 
realities, that any one should have the hardiness to pro- 
duce a version of a neglected author, will appear pass- 
ing strange. 

The present attempt was made 

" In early youth, when high the fancy ran," 

under the conceit that the merits of Claudian, as a poet, 
were not duly appreciated; nor would they be so, till 
exhibited in a more poetical version than had previously 
appeared. For, although Mr. Hawkins's translation be 
admirable for its fidelity, its metrical monotony has pre- 
vented it from attaining the circulation it merited. 

That Claudian is a minor Latin poet is unquestionable ; 
that most of his compositions are above mediocrity is 
equally so : in some points, particularly in narrative, he 
imitates, too closely, Virgil and Ovid. It will appear, 



70 PREFACE. 

however, on examination, that the plan of his poem and 
the structure of his versification, together with an elegant 
expression of pithy sentiments, are peculiar and original. 
His descriptions are singularly vivid and forcible, nor is 
he deficient in variety of character, pathos, and incident. 
Though Claudian may appear, to an ardent admirer of 
Ovid, to lack sentiment, he rarely fatigues by prolixity, 
as the latter occasionally does. Like the great masters 
of the pictorial art, by a few touches he awakens the 
imagination and excites our sensibilities more effective- 
ly, than by complete developement and minute detail. — 
The main incidents of the Proserpine are natural and 
well concatenated. It is to be regretted that ' the great 
Vandal ' has destroyed most of the third Canto, so that 
the denouement of the poem is wanting. The remnant, 
however, together with the other two books, is sufficient 
to satisfy the reader's mind with regard to the fate of the 
heroine, and of the leading and subordinate characters. 
Had the third book of the Proserpine escaped the ravages 
of time, it is probable that the composition, as a whole, 
would have approximated to the character of romance 
more than any other ancient poem, the Odyssey alone ex- 
cepted. Should the reader consider Claudian's colouring 
too gaudy, and his diction too inflated, let him remem- 
ber that all the dramatis personce in the Proserpine are 
either Di Superi or Di Inferi ; and that the poet, proba- 
bly through fear of incurring the charge attributed to 



PREFACE. 71 

Homer's divinities, viz. " that they were too mannish,"* 
has endeavoured, like Turner, that prince of oriental 
tinters, to throw a golden and purple glory over all his 
scenes and characters. Claudian's account of natural 
phenomena will indeed appear turgid and overwrought, 
if it be estimated by the standard of modern knowledge. 
Etna, though still twenty miles in circuit and eleven 
thousand feet high, (i. e. about twenty- seven times as 
high as St. Paul's,) has dwindled to a mole-hill in the 
imagination of modern poets, with whom Chimborazo 
and Cotopaxi " look from their throne of clouds o'er 
half the world;" while Dawalaghiri again bids Mont 
Blanc and the Andes * hide their diminished heads.' In 
sober truth, the ancient poets seem to have invested their 
Scylla and Charybdis, as well as the sea altogether, with 
ideal terrors, now that the improvements in navigation 
have rendered the Maelstroom and Niagara within the 
reach of a few days' journey. 

The mighty masters of song, — Lord Byron and Sir 
Walter Scott, have proved by their compositions f that 
the favourite though hackneyed verse of eight syllables is 
equally well adapted to the expression of heroic senti- 

* A similar objection maybe made to Claude's deities, introduced 
in some of his grandest landscapes, and even to the representation 
of" the Father" by Murillo and Michael Angelo. They are mere 
mortals, lacking utterly the ' halo of divinity.' 

-f " Land of the unforgotten brave ! " 

Marmion, Lady of the Lake, passim. 



72 PREFACE. 

ments, as to the prosy moral of Gay's Fables, or the 
crispy satire of Hudibras. In humble imitation of these 
illustrious geniuses, the poetaster opineth himself at 
liberty to use the short metre, as better adapted to the 
translation of the greater part of minor poems, ancient 
and modern, than the formal decasyllabic strain. Why 
have Pope and Dryden, with much of Milton, been only 
half perused by half the reading world ? (a fact). Simply 
because their monotonous chime and ' ding dong ' weary 
even the most thirsty intellectualists. 

With regard to the merits or demerits of the translation, 
the author would remark, that he has probably the same 
conceit that most parents, especially pedagogues, have 
towards their literary bantlings. He has been told, by 
qualified critics, never to go beyond, nor to sink beneath 
his author. Now, he is but too conscious of having oc- 
casionally ' gone beyond ' Claudian, without rising above 
him ; and also of having, still more frequently, sunk into 
a bathos very far below him. If he shall be judged to 
have sometimes succeeded in blending the spirit of the 
old bard with our modern phraseology, his best hopes 
will be realized. 



PROSERPINE. 



INTRODUCTION. 

When Genius* first, with oar unwieldy, plied 
His rough-hewn alder on the buoyant tide, 
Or dar'd the sail to fickle winds unfold, 
And force a path where nature pathless roll'd ; 
Though near the land, and ruder gales at rest, 
What hopes elated and alarms deprest ! 
Adventure urg'd him onward to explore 
The varied bearings of his native shore ; 
Till, from the main-land borne, his curling sail 
O'er sky-zon'd billows rose upon the gale. 
Then rose his spirit, — to the whizzing wind 
Flung fear, or left it with the land behind : 
Light as the spray along the rolling tide, 
The surge his music and the stars his guide, 

* Of invention. 



74 INTRODUCTION. 

Where, in the storm, the mad Egean foams, 
Lord of the chainless wave at large he roams. 

The ' ravishing stride ' of Hela's king 
My daring Muse essays to sing ; 
The sable steeds in ebon car, 

In mad affright, 

With fume of night 
That dimm'd the solar glow, 

And Proserpine's bow'r, 

In darkling hour, 
By spectres deck'd below. . . . 
Then hence ! avaunt ! ye herd profane, 
Whom poesy's spell will ne'er enchain ; 

Apollo fires, 

The Muse inspires, 
Oh, wake me not from fancy's dream ! 
Forgetting earth and earthly theme, 
I view, with vision-painted eye, 
The fane of deathless poesy ; 
I see its cloud-bas'd columns nod, 
Its burnish'd shrine retort the rays 
That from Apollo's shoulder blaze, 



INTRODUCTION. 

To mark the advent of the laureate god. 
Earth's central concave moans, — 
Each Attic fane re-echoing groans, — 
The mystic Eleusinian torches gleam, — 
Hissing the Triptolemian dragons seem, 
With scaly necks on high upborne, 
Bright by encircling harness worn ; 
Erect their rosy crests they listening glide along, 
And own the pathos of my vent'rous song. 
Fancy now aloof espies 
Hecate's triple form arise, 
And ivy-crown'd Bacchus, all maudlin and bland, 
Scarce able by aid of his Thyrsus to stand, 
In grisly skin of tiger warm, 
Whose gilded claws a buckle form. 

Ye Pow'rs of night ! on whom a countless band 

Of phantom satellites attendant stand ; 

Ye gods ! unsated with the spoils that lie 

Of blighted being in your treasury ; 

Engirt by Styx, through dense shoals writhing on, 

Or fuming sulphur-tide of Phlegethon, 



75 



76 



NTRODUCTION. 



Unshroud your gloom, enlumine to mine eye 
The fearful secrets of your sable sky ! 
Tell, by what counsel Love's unerring dart 
Pierc'd Pluto's hard, inexorable heart : 
To mortals Proserpine's abduction tell, 
Her dowry Chaos, her dominion Hell : 
How the lorn mother, roaming in distress, 
With law and culture grac'd the wilderness : 
How the full acorn deck'd the oak in vain, 
Soon as the furrow shone with yellow grain. 






PROSERPINE, 

Canto h 



In Nature's morn, with frantic rage, 
Imperial Pluto glow'd to wage 
War with the Pow'rs enthron'd on high, 
A malcontent with destiny. 
The monarch saw with sullen soul 
His years in lone bereavement roll ; 
To him, alone of gods, denied 
The lover's bliss, the father's pride, 
The matchless boon of wedded love 
To man below from Jove above. 
Then saw his gulph of gloom combine 
Its monster-fiends in marshall'd line : 
Ghastly with snakes in burning hand 
The Furies shook the lurid brand, 
And rous'd to arms the spectre-band. 



78 PROSERPINE. 



Pluto's discontent the Fates appease him. 



Then had the novel system far, 

By rebel, elemental war, 

Been hurl'd to Chaos ; then, amain 

From dungeon-loathsomeness and chain 

Bounding, Titan's sons had seen 

Earth's sunny orb with raptur'd mien, 

And hundred-handed monsters strove 

To wrest his thunderbolts from Jove, 

Had not the Fates uprose, who threw 

O'er Pluto's feet their silver hue 

Of locks, and strove his ire to check, 

And save the new-form'd world from wreck. 

His knees they clasp'd; then rais'd the hands 

That rule where destiny expands, 

That wove in mystery sublime 

Time's iron tissue from its prime, 

And thus, with reason's soft address, 

They cool'd his mental sultriness : 

" O, sov 'reign of our phantom land, 

Our spindles whirl at thy command ! 



PROSERPINE. 79 



The Fates' address to Pluto. . . .they advise him to demand of Jupiter a wife. 

Dread arbiter of life and death, 

Fountain and bourn of vital breath ; 

Author of all material form, 

With death to chill, with being warm, 

Is thine alone ; at thy behest 

The sin-freed spirit of the blest 

(Time's mystic cycle roll'd away) 

Re-animates the mortal clay. 

Oh ! break not thus the peaceful band 

Our wheels have spun, our counsel plann'd ; 

Nor let war's brazen herald move 

Thy hosts, to dare fraternal Jove. 

Shall brothers meet in impious fight? 

Shall miscreant giants view the light 

Of glorious noon, and, rous'd to arms, 

Disturb the world by fresh alarms ? 

Dost thou for wedded rapture pine ? 

Ask Jove a bride, — a bride is thine." 

Soon as her counsel struck his ear, 

He hush'd the pray'r he blush'd to hear ; 



80 PROSERPINE. 



He consents, and orders Mercury to bear a message to Jupiter. 

And, though he scorn'd to change, represt 

The fiery ferment of his breast. 

So would the phrenzied north-wind blow, 

Or stretch his wing, encas'd with snow 

And hail, in hurricane to sweep 

Forest and plain and wavy deep, 

Should Eolus fling the dungeon-door 

Full on his mountain-rending roar, 

Its adamantine bars repress, 

That baffled rush of franticness. 

Now Plato bade, with stern command, 

Within the presence quickly stand 

The messenger, equipp'd to fly 

With ireful speech to Jove on high. 

Quick at the mandate Mercury came 

With wand of sleep and helm of flame. 

All on a rude rock, thron'd on high 

In grim, disdainful majesty, 

With hot hand clench'd the angry god 

His midnight empire's canker'd rod : 



PROSERPINE. 81 

Pluto's angry message to Jupiter. 

Encircling clouds of sorrow spread 
Dun shadow round his lofty head, 
While gloom with sullenness combin'd 
To swell his wrath of mien and mind. 
At last his message uncontroul'd, 
From high in tone of thunder roll'd. 
He spoke, — the halls of death around 
With fearful shudder own'd the sound : 
No more was heard the demons' howl, 
No more the porter's triple growl ; 
The stream of tears forbore its flow, 
The stream of sighs its wail of woe, 
And ceas'd the fearful flood of fire 
To sear its bank in crackling spire. 
" Mercury ! since to thee is giv'n 
Alone to dwell in Hell or Heav'n, 
The messenger of either sphere, 
To gods of either empire dear ; 
Up — fly — away ! outpost the wind, 
And thus to Jove present my mind : 
Brother in name ! shall pleasure be 



82 PROSERPINE. 



Pluto's angry message. 



Thy sole prerogative ? To me 

What though by adverse fate it fell 

To forfeit Heav'n and reign in Hell, 

Did Fate annul my might as well ? 

No : arms and myriad-might are mine ! 

And though from me no lightnings shine, 

Or sound-delusive bolts are hurl'd, 

By monsters forged, to fright the world, 

Think not my pow'r and spirit lie 

Content in inactivity ! 

Sure 'tis too much to see me live 

In the worst realm that Fate could give, 

Fall'n from the sovereignty of light 

To drear immensity of night, 

While round thyself in grandeur shine 

The zodiac and the septentrine. 

The contrast view, — nor then deny 

The zest of immortality. 

Neptune can ever solace spy 

In Amphitrite's azure eye: 

When toil of universal state, 



PROSERPINE. 83 



Mercury flies to Jupiter. . . .Jupiter is disconcerted. 

The lightning's grasp, the sceptre's weight, 
Oppress thine arm, to ev'ry grief 
Thy lovely partner yields relief; 
Or else thou seekest sweet amour 
With Ceres and a thousand more, — 
Whence all the progeny that bless 
Thy courts with unmatch'd comeliness. 
But I, in worse than widow'd pain, 
In lonely destitution reign : 
No more — no more — in this distress 
In cold, unmeaning loneliness 
I'll reign. Deny a bride, I swear, 
Yes, by the changeless flood I swear ! 
I'll set our sire from fetter free, 
Give darkness light and liberty, 
Disjoint the globe, rend compacts made, 
And blend day's blaze with Hell's black shade !" 
Swift at the word, the starry sky 
Is spann'd by winged Mercury. 
Dread Jove the ireful message hears, 
And, wilder'd, long in doubt appears, 
To know what fear-despising fair 
g2 



84 PROSERPINE. 



Jupiter makes a resolve Proserpine described. 



For Pluto's dread domain would dare 
To change the joyous realm of light, 
And reign mid ghosts the queen of Night. 

Long by contending feeling sway'd, 

A stern resolve at last he made 

With welcome throe, in Henna's wild 

Had Ceres borne one blooming child ; 

Exhausted nature gave no more, 

But in fair Proserpine combin'd 

Of varied loveliness a store, 

Each winsome grace of form and mind. 

Sweet Proserpine bloom'd the sole delight 

Of Ceres, proudest in her pride ; 

Her thought by day, her dream by night, 

The want of many one supplied. 

With far less jealous care carest 

Frolics the calf,* whose hoof ne'er prest 

The clod, nor crescent hornlets curl. 

* Some regard this simile as ignoble ; others, as strongly expres- 
sive of parental tenderness, accompanied by fierce anxiety. The 
comparison of a heroine with a calf seems more inappropriate, from 
our modern ideas with regard to that animal. 



PROSERPINE. 85 



Apollo and Mars address Proserpine Ceres conceals her in Sicily. 

Anon, with circling years the girl 
By perturbation strange was sway'd, 
For many a suitor sought the maid : 
Echoed her halls the loud address 
Of captives to her loveliness ; 
The youthful gods of Song and Arms 
Came rival suitors for her charms. 
Proffer'd the shielded god in vain 
Thracia's cold, puissant reign ; 
Apollo vow'd his fair should be 
Regent of Song and Prophecy. 
But Ceres on their passion frown'd : 
Her daughter's innocence she strove 
In rude Sicilia's glens profound 
To shelter from admiring love : 
The doting mother deem'd her child 
From admiration's peering eye 
Would find a screen in nature's wild, 
Blinded, alas ! to destiny. 

Once Sicily with Italia's strand 
Was lash'd by one continuous band, 



86 PROSERPINE. 

Description of Sicily. . . .Mount Etna. 

Till the triumphant sea-gods rent 
The island from the continent. 
Their might, beneath the mining tide, 
Avail'd the mountain-chain to sever, 
And with a narrow strait* divide 
The lofty kindred cliffs for ever. 
The rifted island's triple front 
Endures the battling tempest's brunt. 
At the extremes three forelands form 
A passless bourn to sea and storm : 
One, with a beetling brow of rock, 
Rebuts the Ionian's briny shock ; 
A second breasts, with canine yell, 
The rolling Lilybean swell ; 
There, scorning bar, the Tuscan deep 
Bounds in the gale o'er Faro's steep. 
Aspiring Etna central rears 
Her black-burnt rocks in jetty tiers : 
A record monumental tow'rs, 
Of Jove supreme o'er giant-pow'rs. 

* The 'fretum Siculum,' or Strait of Messina. 



PROSERPINE. 87 



The giant Enceladus. 



Deep in the mountain's glowing womb, 
With hands behind his galPd back bound, 
Manacled in his blazing tomb, 
The rebel giant spans the ground. 
His burning lungs with quenchless spire 
Unceasing sigh sulphureous fire : 
Should he his aching shoulder raise, 
The rock-bas'd isle's foundations quiver ; 
Their ponderous mass his might outweighs, 
Yet mountains reel and cities shiver. 
To Etna's top the eye may climb, 
But mortal foot the peak sublime 
Ne'er trod, nor human culture crown'd 
Though shelving woods the sides surround. 
Now from the maw in black array 
Engender'd fumes bedim the day ; 
In desolation deep and wide 
The lava rolls its burning tide. 
Launch'd at the stars now rocks aspire, 
Turn,— fall and feed the cavern'd fire. 



88 PROSERPINE. 

Eruption of Mount Etna, and its probable causes. 

All while from heat the hill o'erflow, 
Crowning the crater's frozen hem, 
The ever-culminating snow, 
With bright and spotless diadem ; 
The ice-prism 'neath the pumice show'r, 
The hoar-frost's splendid crystal plume, 
And endless phantasy of flow'r, 
Moulded beneath the crater's fume, 
Proclaim each element maintains 
The pristine truce, — that inly reigns 
The furious might of fire, but cold 
External sway shall ever hold. 
When shall the pond'ring sage descry 
The spring, whose elasticity 
Launches the rock ? whose action grand 
With lawless lava whelms the land ? 
Or ever must the caverns lie 
Unfathom'd by philosophy ? 
Perchance, in Etna's bosom pent, 
The struggling winds would find a vent, 



PROSERPINE. 89 



Ceres, deeming her secure, leaves Proserpine. . . .Ceres in her car. 

And from concentred focus hurl 
The rifted rocks in blazing whirl ; 
Or, if the subtle ocean-mine 
To Etna's sulphur-bed, the brine 
To vapour forg'd, its dungeon rends, 

And high in air the barrier sends 

Here to the keeping, wild and rude, 

Of glen and mountain solitude, 

Fond Ceres ventures to consign 

Her cherish'd pledge, sweet Proserpine. 

Reliev'd of fear, she mounts her car 

To visit Phrygia's realm afar, 

Where Cybele, her mother, reigns 

In tow'r-crown'd state o'er Ida's plains. 

Her dragon-team through ether's tide 

In rapid convolution glide ; 

Sprent are their reins with harmless spume, 

Enamell'd beam their backs with green, 

Shaded their heads with crested plume, 

Burnish'd their scales with golden sheen. 



90 PROSERPINE. 



The emotion of Ceres on quitting her daughter. 



Now, now they outspeed the zephyr far, 
The gray dust whirls the wheels around : 
Now near the surface skims the car, 
With vegetation teems the ground ; 
Rich tapestries in golden pride 
Of springing ears the wheel-tracks hide. 
While riches thus her course adorn, 
On the blue crater, fading fast, 
By Ceres, far from Etna borne, 
A longing, straining gaze is cast. 
She feels the parting pang again, 
And cries with sorrow-boding sigh, 
While shining tears her cheek profane, 
And dim the heart-expressive eye, 
" Henna, farewell ! to me more dear 
Than yonder bright, empyrean sphere. 
To thy protection I consign 
Life's dearest joy, my Proserpine ! 
Oh, guard her well, repaid thy care ! 
Nor harrow's fang nor trenchant share 



PROSERPINE. 91 



Ceres reaches the abode of her mother Cybele's residence. 

Shall raze thy bosom ; vale and fell 
With richest loveliness shall swell ; 
The ox unyok'd shall roam thy lea, 
The crop unsown thy guerdon be ; 
In endless holiday thy swain 
Shall raptur'd view thy teeming grain \" 
In quick career o'er land and flood, 
Their limit reach'd her dragon-stud ; 
Where tower'd, sublime in solemn pride, 
Her mother's fane on craggy Ide. 
The fearful flint-hewn temple stands 
Where the dark pine, bedropt with cones, 
Its sable boughs in shade expands, 
That constant moan in mystic tones, 
Though leaf and branch be still as death, 
Unruffled by the zephyr's breath. 
Wild dance within, and phrenzied cry 
Of revellers with minstrelsy, 
Shake the colossal dome : the roar 
Thrills through Ida's flinty core ; 



92 PROSERPINE. 



Cybele's delight on seeing Ceres. 



The forest-tops affrighted swell 
Billowy in the fearful yell. 
Anon, they Ceres see advance, — 
The maniac dancers cease to reel ; 
Still is the step that leads the dance, 
The priest forbears his clashing steel ; 
The doubling drum, the warbling flute, 
Trumpet and cymbal, — all are mute. 
The lions fawn with couchant mane 
As, bounding from the inmost fane, 
Speeds Cybele, who, bending low 
The tow'r-tiara of her brow, 
Welcomes her Ceres with a kiss 
Fraught with a mother's tender bliss. 
But Jove, in Heav'n exalted high, 
These movements view'd with wakeful eye, 
And thus to beauty's queen confest 
The lab'ring secret of his breast : 
" Venus, to thee, celestial fair, 
Alone I tell my secret care. 



PROSERPINE. 



93 



Jupiter tells Venus his intention respecting Proserpine. 

Hear my resolve, — nor start with dread, 
Young Proserpine must with Pluto wed ! 
Themis has sung in constant strains 
The fiat stern that Fate ordains ; 
Seize the bright hour, — know no delay, 
The doting mother's far away. 
Fly, then, my lovely Venus, fly, 
Swift as thy doves to Sicily. 
Soon as the orient glow of day 
Illumines Henna's mead and grove, 
Win Proserpine from home away, 
Far o'er her spreading lawns to rove : 
Then witch her with thy magic spell, 
That witches earth, — myself as well. 
Is there a realm so far away, 
That space shall free it from thy sway ? 
No ! Let each soul thy triumph know 
In light above or shade below ; 
Let Furies feel thy fierce control, 
With passion fire each Stygian soul ; 



94 FROSERPINE. 



Venus sets out for Sicily, accompanied by Diana and Pallas. 

Let sov'reign Pluto's iron heart 

Be pierc'd by Cupid's keener dart." 

Quick as expression Venus hied 

To do the task : there went beside, 

Dian, who loves to wake the morn 

On Grecian hills with hound and horn ; 

Minerva, too, by Jove's decree, 

Joins the celestial company. 

A radiant track of liquid light 

Through Heav'n's cerulean mark'd their flight. 

Darting thus, with omen dire, 

Glares the crimson comet's fire : 

Woe to the wand'rer on the main ! 

Woe to the dweller on the plain ! 

Its rays of blood, in menace grand, 

Bode storms at sea and strife on land. 

The goddess-trio reach the dome, 

Whose battlements of iron bright, 

Wrought by the smiths in Etna's womb, 

Display on high a pond'rous might. 



PROSERPINE. 95 



Proserpine's abode described her employment. 



On iron jambs the portals rear'd, 
Secur'd by bars of steel appear'd : 
The giant foreman saw it stand 
His master-piece of head and hand ; 
Ne'er such a toil the smith had known, 
Ne'er such a blast his bellows blown ; 
From fire-sear'd smithy ne'er before 
Had stream'd such floods of molten ore. 
Ivory veneers the hall as glass, 
Strong slopes the roof with beams of brass, 
While burnish'd gold and silver blend * 
The lofty columns that ascend. 
Melodious floats the hall along 
Blithe Proserpine's expressive song ; 
Who eager plies the silken loom 
To greet with broider'd present home 
Her cherish'd Ceres ; — fate's decree 
Has doom'd her toil a vanity. 
Bright does the pictur'd web display 
The elements in blazon gay : 

* The mixture called 'electrum.' 



96 PROSERPINE. 



Proserpine's embroidery described. 



In liquid blue the skies expand, 
Her needle mimicks nature's hand, 
That (chaos foil'd) in order class'd 
The elemental world at last. 
She shows how spirits upward flow, 
How ether shines, fire mounts the pole, # 
While grosser substance sinks below, 
Earth balanc'd hangs, and oceans roll. 
In varied tint the web pourtrays 
The purple sea, the jewell'd shore, 
The circling constellations' blaze, 
With tides that swell in fancy's roar, 
Weeds on breakers wild seem dashing, 
Waves on thirsty shallows splashing. 
Bright are the zones ; with ruby seam 
She marks the sun's ecliptic beam ; 
On either side, in faded line, 
Thirst the sultry tropics' clime. 

* The antient9, unacquainted with atmospheric pressure, believed 
that flame ascended, in order to blend with a cognate stratum of fire 
next above our vital atmosphere. 



PROSERPINE. 97 



Proserpine's emotion on the approach of the goddesses. 

Green are the zones, refinement's bound, 

By temperance nurs'd and verdure crown'd 

The antarctic berg and arctic snow 

At either pole in twilight glow, 

And cheerless lours the chilly loom 

With dreary winter's torpid gloom. 

But as she broiders Pluto's throne 

And land of shades, by Fate her own, 

Spontaneous crystals gem her eye, 

Sad harbingers of destiny. 

Next on the margin, 'neath her hand, 

The glassy ripple laves the strand. . . . 

With sudden clang the halls rebound, — 

The startled maiden gazes round ; 

The work unfinish'd leaves her hand, 

As by the goddess-trio stand. 

Now tints her cheek and neck of snow 

Youth's peerless blush of crimson glow. 

Can ivory stained with Tyrian dye, 

Rival that blush of modesty ? . . . . 



98 PROSERPINE. 



Pluto prepares his car to carry her off his steeds described. 

The sun had sunk behind the main, 
Dank night brought downy sleep again ; 
Pluto, appris'd by thund'ring Jove, 
Prepar'd to rise to realms above. 
A ghastly Fury yok'd the steeds 
That through the infernal twilight sweep, 
That graze the tear-fraught river-meads, 
And quaff of Lethe's sluggish deep. 
In sable panoplies they flung 
Oblivious froth with restless tongue : 
Orphnseus glares with savage eye ; 
Pride of the stud, see Nycteus stand ; 
Fleet as a barb vaults Ethon by 
Alastor, mark'd by bident brand. 
Hard by the palace-portal drawn, 
Restless they vault and neigh for morn, 
When they shall waft, delighted, thro' the skies 
Their fated queen, imperial Pluto's prize. 

END OF FIRST CANTO. 



PROSERPINE. 

Canto M. 



Day's herald light with misty grey 
Illum'd the sea ; the spangles dance 
Where the Ionian waters play, 
Flickering in restless undulance. 
Beguil'd by Venus, urg'd by Fate, 
Trips Proserpine to court the breeze, 
Reckless of Ceres, youth-elate. 
The lawns were sprent with dropping trees 
Thrice, as she pass'd, with boding clang 
Fate on the opening portals rang ; 
In wailing tone thrice Etna groan'd, 
Her peril warn'd, her peril moan'd ; 
But prodigies nor portent stay, 
When love and destiny betray ! 
h 2 



100 PROSERPINE. 



Venus described Minerva Diana. 



The goddess-sisters join her side : 
Venus, in guile-exultant pride, 
Feels conquest sure by Fate's behest, — 
The plot was rapture to her breast. 
Pluto enslav'd, before her eye 
Fresh visions flit of victory ; 
She weens o'er Hades soon to reign, 
And add the Manes to her train. 
Idalian nymphs had deck'd her hair 
In cluster'd rings of golden glare ; 
Vulcan had wrought, with zeal and zest, 
The gem that loop'd her purple vest. 
See next Lyceum's queen advance,* 
Who Athens guards with beamy lance ; 
In virgin worth her chaste compeer, 
Diana, blooms in beauty near, — 
Dian, who awes the savage wood, 
While Pallas rules the field of blood. 
Minerva's casque, in gold emboss'd, 
Displays a form in torture toss'd, 

* Minerva. 



PROSERPINE. 101 



Diana her characteristics. 



Whose limbs, in writhing anguish left, 

Seem agoniz'd in mortal strife, 

(The giant bust of feeling reft,) 

Between suspense of death and life. 

Her beamy lance ascends the sky, 

As tow'rs a forest-cedar high : 

A fluid pall of gold conceal'd 

The hissing horrors of her shield. 

But Dian smiles in gentleness, 

With vermeil cheek and beaming eyes ; 

Her brother's look her looks express, 

His counterpart in maiden guise. 

Bright is her graceful arm and bare, 

Silent the slacken'd sinew's twang ; 

The wild breeze revels in her hair, 

Her quiver'd arrows dormant hang ; 

Her robe, with duple sash confin'd, 

Flows to the knee and woos the wind, 

On which, through waves of bright brocade, 

The baseless Delos seems to wade. 



102 PROSERPINE. 



Eeauty of Proserpine her splendid attire. 



Young Proserpine may with either vie, 

Her mother's pride, (too soon her pain) ; 

In form as fair, in birth as high, 

With equal grace she treads the plain. 

Diana's form, Minerva's mind, 

Glow in the charming maid combin'd : 

Give her a bow, Diana walks ! 

Give her a helmet, Pallas stalks ! 

A jasper brooch secures her vest, 

Of textile art transcendant test ; 

The loom had ne'er before essay 'd, 

In such a bright harmonious whole, 

So well to blend the silken braid, 

For nature blossom'd on the stole. 

Hyperion's twins, the solar globe, 

And Luna's crescent, grace the robe. 

The infant Pow'rs of day and night 

Unequal glow in broidery bright : 

By Tethys nurs'd, the infants lie 

Like rose-buds at her blue-vein 'd breast ; 



PROSERPINE. 103 



Proserpine's attendant nymphs. 



All in their radiant nursery 
Solac'd, they gently panting rest. 
Forth from the young Sun's tiny brow, 
A babe in impubescent ire, 
As yet no blinding glories flow, 
He faintly breathes in scanty fire.* 
Thus in the fulgid pomp of dress 
Roves Proserpine in blithesomeness : 
Where'er she steps the verdant ground 
Her circling handmaids gambol round ; 
Nymphs, in Sicilian streams that lave, 
Where bright Crinisus rolls his wave, 

* Mr. Addison, in his work entitled " Dialogues on the Useful- 
ness of Coins and Medals," p. 91, applies the epithet of ' fustian ' 
to Claudian's description of the infant Titan, as embroidered on 
Proserpine's robe. The learned author does not, however, specify 
in what the fustian consists. If he mean that it lies in the absurdity 
Of the notion, that an embroidered figure can convey the idea of an 
infant's panting ; by parity of reasoning the same epithet must be 
applied to Virgil's description of the robe, lib. v. 291, Eneid; and 
also of the helmet of Turnus, lib. vii. 785, and the more truly, as 
Virgil is describing the habiliments of a mere mortal. If this be 
true, what is ' fustian ' in the minor poet, is but a pleasing hyper- 
bole in the major one. 



104 PROSERPINE. 



They are compared to the Amazonian and Hermian nymphs. 

The whirling rocks that love to throng, 

By swift Pantagias swept along, 

That haunt the Gela, known to fame, 

Founder of a city's name ; 

Or Camerina's slower deep, 

Struggling through sedgy moors to creep, 

Where Alpheus blends his foreign tide 

With Arethusa foaming wide. 

Foremost of all the virgin throng, 

Trips Cyane the meads along. 

From Northern fields of dead and dying, 

On high the semilunar shield 

Thus do Amazonians, flying 

In beauteous cohort, gaily wield : 

Perhaps, by bold Hippolyt led, 

On Boreal plains, or Getic snows, 

Their sinewy arms have carnage spread, 

Or hewn a path with hatchet-blows 

Where Tanais, ice-encrusted, flows. 

Thus Hermian nymphs their revel hold, 

By Bacchus fir'd, whose joyous ranks, 



PROSERPINE. 



105 



Henna summons Zephyrus her address to him. 

Sprent with the sandy river's gold, 
In disport rove their native banks. 
Deep in his grot the river-god, 
Well pleas'd their revelry to learn, 
Delighted feels the shaking sod, 
And swells the stream with bending urn. 
Henna, the genial nurse of flow'rs, 
Beheld, disporting on the plain, 
Exalted from her fragrant bow'rs, 
Blithe Proserpine's celestial train, 
And eager hail'd the Western gale, 
Recumbent in a winding vale. 
" Dear Zephyr, listen ! Sire of Spring, 
Who lov'st to nurse the year with dew, 
And roam my vales, on vivid wing, 
To yonder woodlands bend thy view : 
Jove's peerless daughters j oyous deign 
Awhile to rove our florid plain. 
Then aid me, Zephyr ! flit away, 
Hang bloom and blossom on the spray ; 



106 PROSERPINE. 



Henna's address to Zephyrus. 



Shed perfume round, till Hybla yield 
The palm of sweets to Henna's field ; 
Waft o'er the goddesses a gale 
Of incense from Arabia's vale ; 
Waft odours from the bud that blows 
Where redolent Hydaspes flows ; 
From groves that yield the cradle-pyre 
Of spices to that bird of fire,* 
Whose death-pile, sought from Saba's plain , 
Gives from its embers life again : 
With these impregn my veins of earth, 
And fan the flow'rs that spring to birth ; 
Fit for the gods let roses blow, 
That tempt the hand to crown the brow." 
She said, — he flew, — his dropping wing- 
Sprinkled the turf with balmy dew, 
Fresh with nectareous sweets of spring, 
And verdure quicken'd as he blew. 
Contentment o'er the welkin dwells, 



* The phoenix. 



PROSERPINE. 107 



Zephyrus covers the lawns with flowers. 



Earth with a convex carpet swells 

Of woven flowers from all her cells : 

The damask rose, the bilberry gay, 

The violet dyed with rich moray, 

Bright as the jewell'd girdle's sheen, 

That decks the waist of Parthia's queen. 

Not fleeces bath'd in Tyrian dye, 

Nor Juno's birds more brilliance show ; 

Not Flora's paramount hues outvie 

The varied glories of the bow, 

Heav'n's arch, that spans the broad cascade, 

From clouds by bursting torrents made. 

In loveliness of form, the place 

Surpass'd the very floral race : 

Here, from the tabulated ground, 

With slope deceptive swells a mound ; 

From living pumice fountains flow, 

Pearling the rushy fringe below ; 

Here tufted vistas quench the heat 

Of burning noon with winter sweet ; 



108 PROSERPINE. 



Description of the grounds. 



Here tow'rs the fir for ship or raft, 
Cornels that yield the javelin shaft ; 
The cypress sad, the scarlet holme, 
Rich with the bee's delicious comb ; 
The prescient laurel, oak of Jove, 
The bush-box tapering through the grove, 
The elm, entwined with clustered vine, 
Or amaranthine ivy-bine. 
Hard by a lake arrests the sight, 
Serenely smooth and chastely bright, 
Whose glassy face inverts the trees, 
That margent court the musky breeze : 
The eye, through crystal caverns led, 
Fathoms the deep and pebbly bed. 
As roam the nymphs the rosy bow'rs, 
Fair Venus bids them cull the flow'rs. 
" Haste ye, my sisters, haste, away ! 
The day-star, high on humid steed, 
Glows through the misty morning-ray, 
That gilds the dew-bespangled mead." 



PROSERPINE. 109 



Proserpine's nymphs, culling flowers, described. 



She said, and pluck'd with freshen'd ruth 
The emblem of her cherish'd youth.* 
The maidens ramble hill and dell, 
As bees, in blooming Hybla's clime, 
Swarm o'er the meads from beechen cell 
To sip the essence of the thyme ; 
When from the waxen camp their kings f 
The legions lead on glistening wings, 
From chosen flowers the honied band 
Rifle the spoil with murmur bland. 
The brilliant honours of the field 
Fast to the damsel-spoilers yield : 
Some are with velvet marjoram dight, 
Some with the rose and privet white; 
Blent with the purple violet's glow, 
Contrasted shines the lily's snow : 
Narcissus falls, the hyacinth low 
Displays its figur'd type of woe. 

* Adonis. 

f The antients believed the bees to be governed by kings, and not 

by queens. — Vide Georgic iv. 



110 PROSERPINE. 



Proserpine and her nymphs. 



These fragrant paragons of spring 
Once bloom'd in youth, as poets sing. 
Young Hyacinth, by fate forlorn, 
Fell by the random discus torn ; 
Yet Phoebus mourns the fatal blow, 
That blanch'd in death his polish'd brow. 
Narcissus first beheld the sun 
Glow on the face of Helicon, 
Who, beauty's slave, ador'd his own, 
Hardly to blooming manhood grown, 
And pin'd to clasp a shade in arms, 
A victim to its soulless charms : 
The river-god yet wails his boy 
With broken reeds of tuneful joy. 
Still foremost o'er the dewy green, 
To deflorate her gay demesne, 
Trips Proserpine, her basket bright 
With buds of ever-varying light : 
Now with a wreath her brow elate 
She binds, — sad presage of her fate ! 



PROSERPINE. Ill 



Proserpine and Pallas delighted with the flowers. 



But she # who quells the world in arms, 
Queen of the trumpet's hoarse alarms, 
Beneath whose prowess legions fall, 
The brazen gate and bastion'd wall, 
To girlish oblectation yields, 
The massy spear forbears to wield, 
Culls the bright flow'r, with fillet rare 
Subdues her casque's terrific glare ; 
Its cone, with verdure shaded o'er, 
With martial terror daunts no more ; 
The tranquil lightnings of her crest 
The dazzled eye no more molest. 
Nor she, who cheers the scenting hound, 
Diana, scorns to sport around : 
Gay as the rest, a garland binds 
Her ringlets, toying with the winds. 
Such are the sports of innocence ! 

They roam 

But hark ! what crash astounds the sense ? 
Earth quakes to dissolution - r valleys rumble ; 

* Minerva. 



112 PROSERPINE. 



Pluto's passage through Etna. 



To and fro reel mountains ; cities totter — tumble. 

Unknown the cause, aghast the virgin-band, 

Deafen'd and mute, in wan amazement stand. 

Venus herself, though anxious for the noise, 

Feels of dismay and joy the equipoise. — 

'Tis Pluto, rising from his gulf below ! 

He goads his steeds, in Etna stamping : 

The giant # writhes beneath their tramping 

In agony ; the glowing tire is cleaving 

His mighty limbs, in convulse heaving ; 

Full on his neck the hot wheel pressing, 

He strives to hurl, with heave distressing, 

Like a split rock or flake of sulphur high, 

King, horses, car, and vaulted Sicily. 

Weaker and weaker now his fibres fail, 

And nerveless on the axle drops his dragon-tail ; 

In furrow'd blaze his shackle-cumber'd back 

Displays the sable chariot's caustic track. 

Saturn's third Prince, puissant Pluto, stands 

With reins loose dangling from his dubious hands, 

* Enceladus. 



PROSERPINE. 113 



Is obstructed by rocks... .he strikes them with his sceptre. 

As in the channel, min'd with fell turmoil 
Deep through the basement of the hostile soil, 
Shrouded in night some hardy pioneer 
Derides the rampart and the guardian-spear, 
And stands prepaid with stupefactive blow 
To rush in thunder on his baffled foe, 
Quick as the legion, erst from mother-earth 
That sprang in perfect panoply to birth. 
Through every crevice flash the monarch's eyes 
To spy a passage to superior skies ; 
But pond'rous cubes of rocks, above, around, 
The inquisition of his keen eye bound. 
Delay was torture ; with indignant shock 
He struck his beamy sceptre on the rock : 
Cavern'd Sicily bellow'd — Lipare bounded — 
And the fire-god flinch'd from his anvil astounded 
The giant smiths paralys'd, gaping in wonder, 
Dropp'd the half-hammer'd arrows of thunder: 
The glacier'd Alps, the Po and Tiber's shore, 
Confess'd the shock with reboative roar,—- 
i 



114 PROSERPINE. 



Consequences of the shock. .. .Pluto emerges above ground. 

Tiber untrophied then by Roman glory, 

Untrac'd in course, unregister'd in story : 

Mute with amaze, the fisher heard the sound 

That shook Italia to its Alpine bound. 

So Neptune's mighty trident, at a blow, 

Split the dense rocks that stemm'd the rapid flow 

Of Peneus, low beneath whose noisome wave 

Untill'd Thessalia lay in marshy grave : 

From tall Olympus stricken Ossa flew, 

Whose riven summit tow Yd a mountain new : 

The long-pent waters through the fissure wide 

Sprang to the main, to meet the parent-tide ; 

In feculence rich, by colonists possest, 

The well-drain'd bed was soon by culture drest. 

But when Sicilia's fundamental rock 

Asunder split beneath the trident- shock, 

As through the yawning chasm rose Pluto's car 

To earth above, on high, around, afar 

Thrill'd trepidation through the blue expanse, 

The lamps eternal from their orbits glance ; 






PROSERPINE. 1 1.1 



Pluto's horses terrified at the sun .... he lashes them on. 

E'en slow Bootes, accelerated, sped 
With fear's precipitation, hurrying fled 
Beneath the horizon; wilder'd in amaze, 
Arctos conceal'd his fear-pallescent blaze 
In seas denied his course ; with feeling drear 
Orion own'd the agony of fear ; 
And sky-capp'd Atlas, quiv'ring with affright, 
Quak'd at the neighing of the steeds of night. 
These, as they saw the golden disk of day, 
Snorted black fumes that veil'd the cheering ray ; 
Plung'd, rear'd, then bounded on in mad affright, 
Scar'd by the brilliance of celestial light. 
Strangers to sunshine, as in darkness bred, 
Back to lov'd Hades they again had sped ; 
And back they curv'd, the traces trail the ground, 
They wring the chariot-beam obliquely round : 
But, lo ! their haunches feel the whizzing thong, 
Reckless of light, as light they fly along, 
Like the cataract's glance by winter-flood swell'd, 
Or spear faster flying by hero impell'd ; 

i 2 



116 PROSERPINE. 



Terror of the nymphs. . . .anger of Minerva. 



Like the Parthian-wing'd arrow, the hurricane wind, 

Or wit's sudden sally that darts from the mind : 

With blood-streak 'd foam the sable reins were painted, 

While, from their lungs, the breeze of heav'n was tainted 

With death's miasma, and the spongy ground 

Absorb'd the reeking froth they flung around. 

Soon as the nymphs espied the fearful car, 

Falcon-wing'd terror hurried them afar, 

And Proserpine fled ; but with horrific stride 

Enraptur'd Pluto seiz'd his fated bride, 

And plac'd her in the car, — wild shriek 'd the maid, 

Craving with tearful eye her sisters' aid. 

Vainly Minerva bar'd the Gorgon's brow ; 

Vainly Diana bent the murd'rous bow ; 

Vainly they long'd to vindicate by arms 

The bitter insult to their common charms. 

Stern stood the monarch of the iron crown, 

Deaf to sigh, pray'r, threat, promise, flatt'ry, frown ; 

As a young lion o'er the heifer stands, 

Pride of the herd and beauty of the lands, 



PROSERPINE. 117 



Her indignant address to Pluto. 



He tears the vitals with ensanguin'd claw, 

(With quarter'd limbs begrim'd his spuming maw,) 

Shakes the black blood-clots from his shaggy mane, 

Shows his white fangs that, gnashing, grin disdain, 

To mock the shepherd's unavailing pain. 

Minerva first the awful silence broke. 

Thus to the daring violator spoke : 

" Despot of phantom slaves ! unmatched in love 

By am'rous Neptune and imperial Jove ! 

Have fiends and furies all conspir'd to fire 

Your recreant soul with masterless desire, 

That thus ye steal from Erebus, and dare 

With Hell's black equipage pollute our air ? 

Surely some demon of your dark recess 

Might win your ugly soul with ugliness ; 

Sure in your eyes the Furies might have charms, 

They, they alone, can grace your husband-arms. 

Away ! leave Jove's domain, — you trespass here : 

Begone ! — contented in your proper sphere ; 

Confound not light and darkness, life and death, 

Nor blight our system longer with your breath." 



118 PROSERPINE. 



Minerva attempts to stop the horses Jupiter's approval of Pluto's conduct. 

Loud was her tone ; her cumbrous orb of brass 

Struck the fierce steeds, that onward sprang to pass. 

They stopp'd : o'ershaded by her streaming crest, 

The Gorgon snakes their mettled might represt. 

She pois'd her lance : its vision-marring ray 

O'er the black chariot beam'd unusual day. 

A moment more — Heav'n yawn'd — tremendous Jove 

Sanction 'd the tie in thunder from above ; 

Red through the rent cloud flash'd the bolt of peace, 

That bade Minerva's opposition cease, 

Their nuptial torch the forked lightning's flash, 

Their nuptial song the pealing thunder-crash. 

To Jove's constraint the goddess-virgins yield ; 

Disarm'd, Diana thus her woe reveal'd : 

Farewell, belov'd maiden ! the dictate of duty 
Enjoins me to bid thee for ever farewell ; 

My arm from abduction would rescue thy beauty, 
But, say ! can my arm 'gainst a father rebel ? 

Farewell, belovM maiden ! though destiny sunder, 
Forget not Diana, thy sister and friend ; 



PROSERPINE. 119 



Diana's lament for the loss of Proserpine. 



I would follow, aid, save thee, but Heav'n's own thunder 
Forbids me the cheering assistance to lend. 

Consign' d by thy father to silence and sadness, 
No more will thy Ceres her darling enfold ; 

No more with thy nymphs wilt thou gambol in gladness, 
Nor the love-beaming eye of Minerva behold. 

Oh ! why do cold Fate's machinations assail thee ? 

Why furies and demons against thee combine ? 
With tear-clouded lustre our stars shall bewail thee, 

And weep when no more on thy beauty they shine. 

How joyless without thee to track the wild savage, 
To chase through the forest the lion and boar ; 

In Parthenian wilds let them riot and ravage, 

My nets and barb'd arrow shall harm them no more. 

No longer shall valley and mountain, the melos 
Loud-ringing, re-echo of hunter and horn ; 

While sorrow shall stifle his flamen at Delos, 
Apollo, thy lover, how wretched and lorn ! 



120 PROSERPINE. 

Proserpine's bilter lamentation. 

She said 

Her vain lament was pity's strain, 
While Proserpine shriek'd in loud lament as vain ; 
Tore her bright hair, that, as the chariot pass'd, 
In broad divergence flicker' d on the blast ; 
Beat her fair breast that heav'd convulsively, 
And thus address'd the fume-enshrouded sky : 
" Remorseless Jupiter ! unpitying sire ! 
Canst thou with demons 'gainst a child conspire? 
With thy connivance is thy daughter huiTd. 
From friends and freedom and the sunlit world ? 
More grateful far thy nuptial thunder-roll 
Had peal'd annihilation to my soul ! 
A father thou, canst thou remorseless see 
A daughter's tears, a mother's agony ? 
Tell me, oh ! tell me, does transgression doom 
Phantoms my friends, forgetfulness my home ? 
When rebel giants warr'd on Phlegra's field, 
Did this slight arm a hostile pennon wield ? 
When ice-tipp'd Ossa on Olympus rose, 
Did these frail hands assist thy giant foes ? 



PROSERPINE. 121 



Proserpine's bitter lamentation. 



For aught evinc'd in word or deed amiss, 

Say, am I hurried through this dread abyss? 

Ye happier fair, whose virtue-marring charms 

Have grac'd compulsively a spoiler's arms, 

Say, have ye lost communion with the sun, 

Like me by passion's turbulence undone ? 

Lost — lost — for ever lost ! I, wretched maid, 

By woman's wile and nature's sweets betray'd ; 

I — I alone — lose honour, peace, and light, 

Home, friends, and day, for hate, and shame, and ni«ht; 

Exchange the solar for the Stygian scene, 

A despot's creature though in name a queen ! 

Ye blooming flow'rs ! how could your fatal bloom, 

And thou too, Venus, lure me to my doom ? 

How could your perfume charm my sense away, 

And thou so sweetly smile, so base betray ? 

The illusion fades, — I see, I see my lot ! 

A mother's counsels, too, through thee forgot • 

Her rave I hear, her agony I see, 

A triumph worthy of the fiends and thee. 

Where, where, forgotten one, oh ! where art thou, 



122 PROSERPINE. 



Proserpine's bitter lamentation. 



Whose parent-arm alone could save me now ? 
Hear ! fly to save me — hear ! from Phrygia's wild 
Thy disobedient, yet repentant child ! 
Yet there, if there thou art, my cry is vain, 
The loud pipes stun thee with discordant strain ; 
In vain my cry, if down in dell profound 
Thine ear is deaden'd by the hideous sound 
Of clanging cymbals and the clash of steel, 
Where Cretan priests in frantic sword-dance reel. 
Oh, save ! from desolation save ! the steeds restrain ! 
Haste, and resistless grasp the spoiler's rein ! " 
The frantic maiden, lovelier in distress, 
Now reach'd the acme of her bitterness ; 
Distraught convulsively, she still appears 
Bright as the rainbow, symmetry in tears. 
This eloquence of tears, this aptitude of woe, 
Enhancing beauty, struck a novel throe 
Of strange emotion through the iron heart 
That never yet had felt the raptur'd smart ; 
Felt, for the first time felt, infernal Jove, 
The heavenly thrill of sympathy and love. 



PROSERPINE. 123 



Pluto's reply to Proserpine. 



With dingy stole he wip'd her tears away, 
And strove emotion's conflict to allay. 
" Light of my life, my Proserpine ! restrain 
A grief as fruitless as your fears are vain ! 
Your fortune calls you to a grander sphere, 
More bright and gorgeous than you cherish here,- 
A throne and husband worthy of your charms, 
My potent realm, these ever-shielding arms ! 
Yes ! the proud son of Saturn is your own, 
Boundless in might, and peerless in renown. 
Fear not for light, but joyous leave behind 
Earth's light impure for brilliancy refin'd. 
Bright is my sun, incomparably bright, 
More clear and gorgeous than Apollo's light : 
Think with what rapture will your bosom swell 
To view Elysium, where the righteous dwell ; 
Where dwell the relicts of the golden age, 
Unchill'd by cold, unscath'd by summer's rage : 
Long have I held, and long ourselves shall hold, 
Domains that once the host of Heav'n controll'd, 



124 PROSERPINE. 



Pluto attempts to console Proserpine. 



While they had worth and merit to possess 

The bright perfection of such blissfulness. 

Sweet are my meads, and sweet the flow'rs that grow, 

And sweet the zephyrs that unceasing blow ; 

Flow'rs that ne'er bloom'd, and gales that never blew 

On humble Henna, so belov'd by you. 

To crown our glades shines, glorious to behold, 

A branchy tree of vegetable gold : 

Sacred to you, for you its boughs shall glow 

With golden fruit, and endless autumn know. 

Trash, trifles, gew-gaws, — words are lost on these ; 

The tenants of the earth, the air, the seas, 

In fount, in lake, and river's rapid roll 

That breathe and sport, your sceptre shall control. 

You, as her regent, shall the moon revere, 

The seventh glory of the shining sphere ; 

Whose silver orbit parts the starry clime 

From changing realms, corruptible by time. 

The purpled tyrant and the peasant slave, 

Bereft of all that pomp or penury gave, 



PROSERPINE. 



125 



deception of Pluto and Proserpine by the infernal host. 

Levell'd in death's equality, shall kiss 
Your regal feet in parity of bliss. 
Nay ! untried ghosts of countless years shall come, 
Cow'd at your feet, to learn their final doom : 
Virtue, confess'd, shall go to bliss indeed, 
And vice, unmask'd, receive its fearful meed. 
The Fates, attendant on your nod, shall wait : 
My fair one's nod in future shall be fate." 

He spoke 

and cheer'd his coursers fell. — 
In countless myriads, ghosts around 
Throng to the yawning gates of Hell, 
To view the monarch's chariot bound. 
So throng the dead leaves down the vale, 
Swept through the forest in the gale ; 
So burst the hail-drops from the cloud, 
When heav'n condensing vapours shroud ; 
Or spray on breakers shiv'ring o'er^ 
Or sands, uplifted from the shore, 
Encolumn'd in the whirlwind's roar: 



126 PROSERPINE. 



Reception of Pluto and Proserpine by the infernal host. 

Age upon age, they crowd the scene 
To view their lord and maiden queen. 
The despot saw their countless file 
With look serene ; a stranger-smile 
Mock'd, with expression bright and brief, 
His frowning brow of stern relief. 
Foremost in craven homage stood 
The god that rules the sulphur-flood ; 
His face a liquid disk appear'd, 
With brimstone trickling from his beard. 
The spectral grooms attend the gate, 
Chosen to guard the car of state : 
Quick on the meads, from bit releas'd, 
The coursers sought the well-earn'd feast. 
Lin'd are the courts with hangings gay, 
The vestibules with green array. 
The vassal dead with robes adorn 
The nuptial chamber, Hymen's bourn. 
Elysian dames are thronging seen 
In holy train to hail their queen : 



PROSERPINE. J 27 



Universal jubilee in the infernal regions. 



With converse sweet they hush her fear, 

With winning words the lone heart cheer ; 

They bind her wild locks' straggling rush, 

O'er which the veil's symbolic blush, 

Bright as the fire, is thrown. In glee, 

And loud convivial jollity, 

The mighty nations' buried dead 

To join the gay carousal sped. 

The Manes to the banquet throng 

In coronets ; the nuptial-song 

Unwonted floats the silent gloom. 

Erst dull and dismal as the tomb : 

That silent gloom, so deep and dense, 

Diminishes in hue intense. 

The judge forbore in fearful urn 

The destinies of man to turn : 

Still was the lash, and hush'd the cry 

Of tortur'd guilt in agony : 

Still on his rack the robber hung, 

And Tantalus cool'd his burning tongue ; 



128 PROSERPINE. 



Universal jubilee in the infernal regions. 



The giant stood and stretch'd his length, 
Nine ox-hides broad, of sinewy strength. 
The vulture ceas'd to gorge his craw, 
Forbore to plough the furrow'd breast 
For living morsels red and raw, 
Nor on the endless liver prest : 
Glutted, his sullen feast forbore ; 
Though sated, griev'd it grew no more. 
The Furies spar'd the guilty souls 
The lash and threat : o'er festive bowls, 
While twin'd their social snakes the rim, 
They filPd the goblet to the brim, 
And join'd the hymeneal hymn. 
Now chang'd the stream of tears his tide 
To milk, and lav'd his soften'd side : 
The birds o'er still Avernus sail'd, 
Whose pool no pestilence exhal'd ; 
The stream of sighs in dimpling wine 
Ran crown'd with bacchanalian bine. 
The life-thread scap'd the fatal shears, 






PROSERPINE. 129 



Nuptials of Pluto and Proserpine. 



And* Death awhile forbore to roam : 
No earthly mourners vied in tears, 
No parent wept his children's doom ; 
No seaman drank the whelming main, 
Nor foeman bit the gory plain. 
Death and disease and pain were driv'n 
From ev'ry city under heav'n : 
With rushes Charon wreath'd his hair, 
And, freightless, cheer'd with songs the air. . 
* * * * # 

Eve's Star had climb'd the nether sky 

Mid merriment and revelry ; 

Star-bosom'd Night approach'd her side, 

A bridemaid meet for trembling bride, 
Shed her dark influence o'er the bow'r of state, 
And drew indissolublv the ties of fate. 



^art 1M. 



LYRICS 



VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 



Laborum dulce lenimen." 



LYRICS 

ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 
LINES 

SUGGESTED BY A MOONLIGHT PAINTING. * 



Though friendship's merit oft inspire 
The poet's lay and minstrel's lyre, 
Yet is the snarling cynic found 
To say that friendship's but a sound, 
A shadowy dream, an empty name ! 
Who shall the taunting railer shame ? 
One — who returns with glow divine 
From hallow'd friendship's lonely shrine ; 

* Representing in the foreground a female figure with an Indian, 
emerging from the depths of a Canadian pine-forest. A watch-dog 
is running to them barking, to announce the approach of strangers 
to the inmates of the shanty, that appears in the middle ground. 
On a bench by the door is seated a squaw. In the distance is lake 
Simcoe glittering in the moonlight, in a creek of which appears a 
small canoe. It may be premised, that these lines were written on 
hearing from a lady some particulars respecting the above painting, 
of which herself was the subject. 



134 



LYRICS. 



Hailing the cheerful moon at last, 
The dreary pine-wood's limit past, 
As from its gloom-encircled verge 
Herself and Indian guide emerge.* 
She comes not from the palace-hall, 
The rout, the play, or glitt'ring ball ; 
But from a happy forest-bow 'r, 
Where, far aloof from pomp and pow'r, 
Friendship and love with freedom bloom, 
Free as the pine that shades their home. 
There has she left that off 'ring rare, 
On friendship's altar fresh as fair, — 
A heart sincere, more rich than gem 
That lights the monarch's diadem. 
Friends, fortune, home, far, far away, 
A desert wild she dares to stray, 
Alone, unarm'd, a woman too, 
In darkness braving want or woe ; 

* She was returning from the very confine of civilization, on the 
N. E. bank of lake Simcoe, whither she had gone to fulfil a pro- 
mised visit to a British naval officer. The undertaking, on the 
part of a lady " qui n'est plus dans sa premiere jeunesse," has been 
considered venturesome and extraordinary, by parties well acquaint- 
ed with all the particulars. 



LYRICS. 135 

Amid Canadia's woods so wild, 
1 That Nature on them never smil'd/ 
That consecrated seem to rise 
To her primgeval mysteries ; 
Where giant pines so veil the sky 
With branch-inwoven canopy, 
That straggling, few, and far between, 
The stinted lunar rays are seen : 
Where all is solemn, dark, and lone 
With death-like stillness, save the moan 
Of winds, or when the hooting owl 
Joins the gaunt wolfs hungry howl ; 
Or growls for blood the grisly bear, 
Rous'd by hunger from his lair ; 
Or echoed footstep, or loud crash 
Of age-corroded pine or ash, 
Telling how Time triumphant runs 
His scythe o'er Nature's sturdy sons. 
Sure, in the night-veil'd waste, the brave 
Might fear to fill a nameless grave, 
And think of scalp and tomahawk, 
W T ith such a guide in such a walk, 



136 LYRICS. 

Or dread that in the Indian mind 

Revenge a lurking place might find, 

Did he reflect how Briton's hand 

Had chas'd his lineage from the land, 

And, with the thought, inflict the blow 

To stretch his fellow-trav'ler low, — 

A victim to appease the ire, 

Nurs'd by the spirit of his sire ; 

Or, if not Superstition's creed, 

That thirst for gold might tempt the deed, 

Such terrors haunt the guilty breast, 

The honest heart they ne'er molest. 

Relying on her fathers' God,* 

She desolation's empire trod, 

Nor thought of prowling wolf or snake, 

Or Indian ambush in the brake. 

Now from the dusky forest's verge 
Herself and Indian guide emerge. 
The sable gloom to Luna's light, 
By contrast yields a radiance bright. 

* Her own sentiment. 



LYRICS. 137 

So from the bolt and shackle free, 
The prisoner bounds to liberty. 
Resplendent beams the golden light, 
Contrasted with a dungeon's night. 
Not they that rove Siberia's snow, 
More joyous hail the solar glow 
Returning, or the Aurora gay 
O'er wintry Night's dominion play. 
The planets glow with diamond-blaze, 
Not dimly, as in realms of haze,* 
But, like bright suns to worlds divine, 
Through a pure, glorious ether shine. 
And next the watch-dog's voice they hear, 
Announcing man's abode is near ; 
Proving how Goodness deigns to bless 
The tenants of the wilderness 
With one, at least, unfailing friend, 
Whose love with life alone shall end. 

AVider the ' clearing ' yet expands ; 
By Simcoe's tide a shanty stands, 

* A fact as yet unexplained. 



138 



c 



LYRICS. 

Rough-hewn, excelling one degree 

The wigwam wild of Cherokee. 

Around, afar, high pil'd, wild-strewn, 

As if by nature's convulse thrown, 

The sylvan monarchs stretch their length, 

Lopp'd of their limbs and branchy strength, 

Whose crowns thro' years of storm had stood, 

And cradled oft the eagle's brood : 

While rifted, blacken'd stems proclaim, 

How axe and fire the waste reclaim. 

On the rude bench the ruder squaw, 

Some Iroquaise or Chockataw, 

With harsh salute the wand'rer greets, — 

The harsh salute the guide repeats. 

But soon the welcome rude is o'er, 

And soon attain 'd the shingled shore ; 

Soon in the birch-canoe they ride 

O'er Simcoe's moon-illumin'd tide ; 

Where glow'd, uncheck'd by cloud or tree, 

The moon's unbounded majesty. 

Then, as the trav'ler's curious eye 

Survey'd the glory of the sky, 



LYRICS. 139 

The ambient constellations' glow 

Above, and Simcoe's depth below, 

That crystal depth where dwell the store 

Of sylphids, fam'd in fairy lore, 

" 'Twas joy to think that very moon 

On those she lov'd might glisten soon ; 

That those same stars that round them rov'd, 

Might light the eyes of those she lov'd ; 

And how her joy would heighten'd be, 

Could those she lov'd those beauties see." # 

While musing thus, the skiff had past 

Deep Simcoe's arm, and reach'd at last 

The craggy confine, where the maid 

Requir'd her trusty sapling's aid : 

The landing climb'd, by fortune blest, 

Our rover reach'd her place of rest, 

By hunger, thirst, nor faintness prest. 

And now return 'd, each peril o'er, 
Safe landed on old England's shore, 
Fancy by day, and dream by night, 
Shall oft revisit with delight 

* Her own sentiments. 



140 LYRICS. 

The forest drear, the shanty rude, 

The watch-dog of the solitude, 

The hardy scion of the plain, 

Simple, true-hearted St. Germain.* 

And many a sweet and gen'rous glow 

Shall that undaunted bosom know, 

That durst ' earth's lonely bound' explore, 

Canadia's waste, Ontario's shore, 

The rolling globe's remotest stage 

In solitary pilgrimage, 

And brave the Atlantic's stormy flow, 

To add a wreath to friendship's brow. 

* The name of the Indian guide. 




LYRICS. 141 



TO GENERAL M , 

ON HIS LEAVING SPAIN. 



Swell on, oh ! surge, and mourn, oh ! wind, 
My native Spain I leave behind ! 
The tide that bears me far away, 
Again may lave a Spanish bay ; 
My gallant ship and valiant band 
No more may reach a Spanish strand ; 
Yet, oh ! while life and love remain, 
I'll love thee, Spain ! 

Confounded be the traitor-band, 
Whose wile with foes has fill'd the land ! 
Whose treason brought the Frenchmen on 
To lov'd Castile from Arragon. 
But traitor art, with foreign gold, 
No chain shall forge my arm to hold ; 
I'll roam the world, or else regain 
Thy freedom, Spain ! 



142 LYRICS. 

REPLY TO THE QUESTION, 

"WHAT IS FRIENDSHIP?" 



What is life without friendship? A vessel at sea, 

Bereft of a pilot the rudder to guide ; 
That drifts on unheeded with breakers ' a-lee,' 

The sport of the gale and the jest of the tide. 
Should I meet with a soul, then, in wish and aversion, 

As reason may dictate, responsive to mine, 
I would fan the congenial spark with exertion, 

Till it brilliantly flam'd into friendship divine. 

To friendship an altar delighted we'd rear one, 

And pile it with friendship's best fuel, — esteem ; 
Soon, fann'd by the vows of myself and sincere one, 

The flame should with splendour and purity beam. 
Like the fire of the Vestal, undying in story, 

The rubbish of int'rest, or jealousy's gust, 
Should never extinguish the light of its glory 

And life-cheering glow, till we slept in the dust. 






LYRICS. 143 



LINES 

WRITTEN ON TWYNBARLWM,* IN MONMOUTHSHIRE. 



Where once the bold Roman his war-watch was 
keeping, 

And view'd with emotion f the Severn's blue wave, 
On lonely Twynbarlwm a hero is sleeping, 

And death-like tranquillity hallows his grave. 
Oh ! there, all alone, should I wish to be roaming, 

To gaze on the landscape romantic and gay ; 
Will mountains and valleys, with bright waters foaming, 

Delight me? No — never ! when Mary's away. 

How sweet is the Ebwy, all peacefully flowing 

Thro' vales where contentment with innocence dwell, 

* The highest of a ridge of hills near Risca The name, according to 
some, means a mountain destitute of vegetation. On the summit is a 
cairn, under which probably a Cambrian hero reposes. There is a tra- 
dition in the neighbourhood, that it was used as a beacon-station by the 
Romans. The prospect from it is extensive, comprehending the Breck- 
nock beacons, the Abergavenny hills, and the wild shores of the Severn. 

t Reminding him of his native ' campagna felice.' 



144 



LY RICS. 



Like pearls on the tresses of beauty, bestowing 
A brilliancy brighter to woodland and dell. 

And surely the landscape, so lovely appearing, 
Might happiness heighten or sorrow allay ; 

No ! sunbeam nor breeze, that play o'er it soul-cheering, 
Can ever delight me if Mary's away. 



ON THE PEN. 



Life's light and shade, in sun and storm, 
And nature's ever varied form, 

The painter's art portrays ; 
What was, what is, or what may be, 
That tongue can tell or eye can see, 

With living truth displays. 

The torrent's roar, the zephyr's sigh, 
Death's groan, the shout of victory, 

And nature's every sound ; 
Hate, love, and joy, with pity's strain, 
Fear, rage, despair, and stern disdain, 

In music may be found. 



LYRICS. 145 

Though tint nor tone the pen display, 
It can the pow'r of both convey,* 

In magic type combin'd ; 
To lifeless paper language lends, 
Bids the dead live, joins sever'd friends, 
And paints in words each movement of the mind. 

* " Haec per hyberbolen dicta, Lector benevole, accipias velim. 
1 Litera enim scripta,' summa licet arte, concentum ilium sub- 
limem, quem ' Halleluiah ' vocant, auri tradere nequit, nee animum 
dulcedine suavi, qua "tabula oculis fidelibus subjecta" afficere po- 
tent." — Scholast. cap. i. 



ORIGIN OF THE FORGET-ME-NOT. 



Love's emblem true 

Of constant blue, 
A bright Forget-me-not, 

To Adam came 

And own'd with shame 
Its name it had forgot. 

L 



146 LYRICS. 

" Sweet flow'r," said he, 
" Remember me, 
Your 'name's ' Forget-me-not.' 

" In sun or shade, 

And moonlit glade, 
By rivulet or grot ; 

In rosy bow'rs 

Mid other flow'rs, 
Your name's ' Forget-me-not.' " 

" Sweet flow'r," said he, etc. 

With blushes true 

The flow'r withdrew, 
Where zephyrs fann'd the spot ; 

Still, pluck'd by love 

Or friendship's hand, 
It sighs ' Forget-me-not.' 



LYRICS. 14 



TO 



ON HER THIRD BIRTH-DAY. 



Child of my hope ! no radiant store 
Of jewels, set in burnish'd ore, 

Shall greet thy natal morn ; 
But yet a father's warmest pray'r, 
That thou mayst every blessing share, 

Welcomes its brilliant dawn. 

Adown life's vale, bestream'd with tears, 
Thou now hast rambled three short years 

Not lamb of pastime full, 
Nor bird that warbles on the bough, 
Can be more innocent than thou, 

Nor half so beautiful. 

l 2 



148 LYRICS. 

Bright as the hip, thy pouting lip 
Invites the bee to come and sip ; 

And on thy downy cheek 
The damask rose, with dew besprent, 
With sunlit snow of lily blent, 

The purest health bespeak. 

And in thy blue expressive eye 
Art, science, and philosophy 

Appear in circle small ; 
And though thou hast but little sense, 
It beams with an intelligence 

That seems to scan them all. 

And as, in favour'd Israel's prime, 
The destinies of man and time 

With wond'rous lustre shone ; 
Where glow'd upon the snowy vest 
That clad the high-priest's holy breast, 

The talismanic stone : 



LYRICS. 



149 



So o'er it often seem to fly 
Dim visions of futurity, 

The mysteries of thought, — 
Of life and sublunary things, 
Dumb, shadowy imaginings, 

By intuition wrought. 

That thou art fat we all confess, 
Yet not too fat for loveliness ; 

The contour of thy face 
Would not, if thou wert thin and scant, 
Expand with such exuberant 

Rotundity of grace. 

The snow-drop, drest in spotless vest, 
By purest dews of morning prest, 

May emulate thy mind ; 
On whose fair tablet never yet 
Has vice its fatal impress set, 

To dim its hue refin'd. 



150 LYRICS. 

Young spirits, such as thou, my dear, 
Tenant the celestial sphere, 

Companions with the dove : 
Of such as thou the Saviour said 
The companies of heav'n were made 

To dwell in endless love. 

Long may the Lord the morning bless 
With grace, and health, and happiness, 

Till life's career is run ; 
Once by His grace and wisdom blest, 
Mayst thou live heedless of the rest, 

Beneath a waning sun. 

Adieu, dear child ! — perchance 'twill be 
More bright than morning infancy 

Thy beauty's noon will shine; 
Yet time from me can ne'er efface 
The beauty of that baby face, 

While life and love are mine. 



LYRICS. 151 



A SIMILE. 



The red west glows, 

The budding rose 
Droops with heat opprest ; 

In balmy sleep 

Yon babe 'gins steep 
Its eyes on beauty's breast. 

Yet, in the moon, 

With dew-pearls soon 
The rose shall grace the night ; 

That child of hope 

Its eyes will ope, 
Refresh'd with brighter light. 

With dew as glows 
The drooping rose, 



152 LYRICS. 

As beams the eye from rest ; 
So friendship's voice 
Can bid rejoice 
The soul with sorrow prest. 



TO 



ON HER FIFTH BIRTH-DAY. 



May lovely Lydia, good and gay, 
Welcome oft her natal day ! 
Bright be the day through changing years, 
And bright her eye undimm'd by tears ! 
Bright be her cheek with rosy health, 
And rich her mind in wisdom's wealth! 
Pure be her soul with Christian truth, 
In age, in womanhood, and youth ! 
And may each natal day be giv'n 
One nearer step to Christ in heav'n ! 



LYRICS. 153 



IN AN ALBUM. 



Album ! thy pages valued be, 

For thou art friendship's treasury 

Of gifts, bestow'd in being's prime, 

Unfading in the wreck of time. 

Each scrap and sketch shall have a tongue 

Thy many-tinted leaves among, 

To tell a tale of joy and tears 

To me and mine in coming years : 

Of joy, that ties are still unbroken 

With those that grac'd thee with a token ; 

Of tears, that some who swelPd thy store, 

By fate remov'd, shall write no more. 

Thy page, with rich remembrance fraught, 

Shall oft refresh my weary thought ; 

And banish sorrow from my heart 

When other books would grief impart. 

Then, Album, priz'd thy pages be, 

For thou art friendship's treasury ! 



154 LYRICS. 



A BALLAD. 



FOUNDED ON FACTS. 



" Call upon me, and I will deliver thee. ,: 



Shrouded in shade is Hainault's glade; 

Nor winking star nor moon 
Illume the pall, wide spread o'er all, 

At night's funereal noon. 

Amid the trees the moaning breeze 
Sings drear November's dirge ; 

Now loves the owl, with omen foul, 
Her dusky flight to urge. 

Through the dark air a ruddy glare 

By fits the lime-kiln flings, 
Where, circling round, the bat is found 

To flit on restless wing. 



LYRICS. 155 

Anon is heard of boding bird 

The raven's dismal croak, 
By levin-brands, where riven stands 

The famous Fairlop oak. 

No fairies prance in merry dance 

Around that dying tree ; 
But midnight fiends howl with the winds, 

In dismal symphony. 

Say, did a creak the silence break 

Of midnight chariot near ? 
Does rusted vane or sign complain, 

Harsh-scrooping on the ear ? 

No ! on a hinge a cradle swings, 

Rock'd by the mutt'ring storm ; 
Whose iron bands embrace the hands 

And robber's blighted form. 

Say, who is he whose gibbet-tree 

Defaces Fairlop's plain ? 
Whose corse around has Justice bound 

Her triple might of chain ? 



156 LYRICS. 

Yon pitched frame had once a name 
Of fear in Epping dale ; 

The ballad Muse may not refuse 
To tell his fearful tale. 



A hundred years are gone and past 

O'er Epping's stunted wood, 
Since, where a beech-grove shed its mast, 

A lonely mansion stood. 

There, in its prime, in feudal time, 
When Edward sway'd the land, 

The titled great their day of state 
Had spent in splendour grand. 

Beneath the breast of earth at rest, 
They with their fathers slept, 

O'er keep and tow'r of faded pow'r 
While ivied ruin crept. 

But still, not all that lordly hall 
Had shrunk beneath his hand ; 



LYRICS. 157 

As if to spite Time's mould'ring might, 
A remnant seem'd to stand. 

There, blest by health, content and wealth, 

Long dwelt two tenants bold ; 
Father and son, the old and young, 

The giants of the hold. 

The senior's head with grey was spread, 

His well-knit form was hale : 
Though three-score years and ten had sped 

Around him in the dale, 

Time had not broke, but slightly shook 

The stalwart vet'ran's frame, 
Oft champion hail'd by Fairlop's oak, 

In many a manly game. 

His limbs the young with strength had strung, 

Through temperance and toil ; 
Nor ash or yew e'er tougher grew, 

Than Will on England's soil. 

No two were found the country round 
More priz'd for honest fame ; 



J 58 



LYRICS. 



The child would lisp the name of Crisp, 
As if it lov'd the name. 

Their night was peace, their day was ease, 

They knew not want or woe ; 
And harvest, o'er, with golden store 

Had fill'd the oak bureau. 



Ere the moonlight, one dreary night, 
Had tipp'd dark Epping's bough, 

In kitchen state the farmer sate, 
Forgetting team and plough. 

Beside him Tray, a mastiff grey, 
Lay coil'd in dream profound ; 

While, dread of rats, two earless cats 
Sat nestling on the ground. 

DofFd were his shoes, from tighten'd hose 

Releas'd his brawny knees ; 
The careless foot on fender put, 

Enjoy 'd a slipper'd ease. 



LYRICS. 159 

Nought reach'd the ear, — the silence drear 
Though clock and cricket marr'd ; 

Or when the blast, swift hurrying past, 
Hurtled the casement barr'd. 

The panes were set in blackest jet, 

Lin'd by the sable night ; 
On them was cast, expiring fast, 

A taper's flick'ring light. 

'Twas waning late, as on the grate 

His pipe's last ash he knock 'd ; 
The clock told ten, late hour for men 

That foot it with the cock. 

The log's last spark the chimney dark 

Uprose, down howi'd the wind ; 
When, tir'd, at length he stretch'd his strength, 

And, yawning, spoke his mind. 

" How comes it, Tray, that Will should stay, 

To-night from us so long ? 
But Lucy, — yes, the cause I guess, 

Ah ! Tray, I once was young." 



160 LYRICS. 

(Tray own'd his love with gentlest move 

Of tail and half-op'd eye ; 
Then 'twixt his paws his shaggy jaws 

Replac'd most silently.) 

" I made it light to wake the night, 
Till morning brought the sun, 

In time gone by when, younger, I 
His mother woo'd and won. 

" Well, well ; the day that's past away 

'Tis weakness to recall ; 
So I'll to rest, 'twill suit me best, 

For dreary is the hall. 

" But, ere the stair I mount, in pray'r 
Right humbly let me bend 

To Him, whose arm alone from harm 
Can me and mine depend." 

Slow from its nook with care he took 

The silver-clasped Word ; 
In accent calm he read the Psalm 

Where David prays the Lord : 



LYRICS. 161 

" He that has God his guardian made, 
Shall under the Almighty's shade 

In confidence abide : 
Thus to my soul of Him I'll say, 
He is my fortress and my stay, 

In whom I will confide. 

u His tender love and watchful care 
Shall free me from the fowler's snare, 

And noisome pestilence ; 
O'er me his wings shall ever spread, 
And shelter my unguarded head, 

His truth my strong defence. , ' 

Now to his bed old Crisp had sped, 

His grateful tribute paid ; 
Soon o'er him sleep began to creep, 

By conscience undelay'd. 



In sweet repose, that labour knows, 

He long entranc'd had lain ; 
Till the young moon, though faintly, shone 

Within his lattice pane. 

* Psalm xci. 



62 LYRICS. 

Its yellow ray had blent with gray, 

And Chanticleer had spoke, 
Ere from that sleep, so sweet and deep, 

The vet'ran had awoke. 

But, piercing clear, thrill'd through his ear 

Of death the dismal yell ; 
The brave might quake, the dead might wake, 

To hear a shriek so fell. 

With sudden start, confus'd in part, 

Sat Crisp erect to hear ; 
Again the yell — 'twas fainter, fell 

Upon his startled ear. 

The tone he knew, — 'twas Tray's, — he flew 
From bed with startled bound ; 

In the moonlight, but rusted tight, 
His yeoman sword he found. 

As down below he stole tiptoe, 

Misgiving strange came o'er, 
For all was still as, mute and chill, 

He op'd the stair-foot door. 



LYRICS. 163 

" Holloa, there, Tray ! No answer? — Hey! 

This silence does amaze — 
Is't Will come home ? " then through the room 

He cast a straining gaze. 

Still as the grave the room was, save 

The forest's sea-like roar ; 
A foot he set within, but wet 

And clammy felt the floor. 

Yet more amaz'd, yet more he gaz'd, 

Till, where the old bureau 
A black shade cast, he saw at last 

A dark form crouching low. 

But of what kind, or man or fiend, 

That sable mass might be, 
Though huge and dense, the gloom intense 

Forbade the eye to see. 

Through the thick night, a gleamy light 

Of eye-ball seem'd to glance ; 
Crisp trembled not, straight to the spot 

He dauntlessly advanc'd. 
m 2 



164 LYRICS. 

" Come out ! come on ! I fear thee none. 

Say — speak ! I'll strike thee dead — " 
When muzzle blaz'd and bullet graz'd — 

Whizz — flash — his aged head. 

With stunning bang a second rang, 
And shook the echoing hall ; 

The whizzing shot had harm'd him not, 
But pierc'd the panell'd wall. 

The priming's light to Crisp a sight 

Terrific did expose ; 
For, with the flash and startling crash, 

A blacken'd ruffian rose. 

Quick as the boa his coiling o'er 

The jungle tiger flings, 
So with a bound, to clasp around 

That form, the farmer springs. 

With giant strain he strives in vain 

To lay the ruffian low, 
Who burst the bands of grappling hands, 

As Sampson burst the tow. 



LYRICS. 165' 

Now, now 's the strife, — they fight for life, 

The heat-drops fall as rain ; 
As bull plies bull, they push, they pull, 

Now down — now up again. 

Stern, dumb as death, their gasp for breath 
Blends with the hoarse wind's sigh ; 

The wan young moon has reach'd her noon, 
And peers on tremblingly. 

Though torn, untir'd, they strain'd, they fir'd, 

Still kindling with the fray ; 
And, but for chance, the combatants 

Had battled on till day. 

But where the floor lay glib with gore, 

Old Crisp unwitting slipp'd ; 
And o'er a form, — 'twas rough, yet warm, 

(Poor Tray's) he backward tripp'd. 

The hard fall shook the solid oak, 

That met his snowy hair ; 
By feeling left, of sense bereft, 

Old Crisp lay welt'ring there. 



166 LYRICS. 

The robber now, as 'twere, a vow 

Of dogged silence broke ; 
With demon curse and oath he first 

Grim to the fallen spoke. 

" Ye're down, ye're done ! and I have won ! 

Now for your precious life ! 
The dead can tell no tales," — with fell 

Resolve he sought his knife. 

Low o'er the ground he stretch'd all round, 

Its gory blade to feel ; 
When Tray he slew it from him flew, 

And darkness hid the steel. 

Though foil'd, he knelt, — still groping, felt, 

Till, where a pick-axe leant 
Against a hutch, at last he touch'd 

That pond'rous implement. 

" Hem ! — this — 'twill do," — then up tiptoe 

He rose to strike ; the blow, 
Flung back intense in vehemence, 

Deep pierc'd the ceiling low. 



LYRICS. 167 

'Twixt lath and wood so wedg'd it stood, 

The axe to disengage 
In vain he strove ; no might could move 

Its fang, — he foam'd with rage. 

He tried again ; again in vain, — 

Yet nought avail'd his pow'r ; 
He made amain a final strain, 

When — steps approach'd the door. 

" Holloa ! how's this ? Is aught amiss ? 

How comes the shutter broke — 
The door unfast ? " — within Will cast 

('Twas he) an anxious look. 

" Tray, boy ! What ! dumb ? In time Pm come : 

Is father yet awake V 
Within he stept, a shudder crept 

Fast over as he spake. 

Scarce was that word of wonder heard, 

When furious at his throat, 
With lightning force and gnashing curse, 

The lurking felon smote. 



lt)8 LYRICS. 

In the dim night the blow fell light, 
For William backward sprang ; 

" Wake ! father, wake ! " — the forest brake 
1 W^ake, father ! ' echoing rang. 

" Hah, villain ! r Clear as bounds the deer, 

Did William at him bound; 
As eagle's stoop or whirlwind's swoop, 

He sprang to grasp him round. 

What words can tell that combat fell ! 

The death-lock grappled hard ; 
How in — how out — they wheeFd about 

The room and outer yard. 

The tragic scene that just had been, 

Was quick enacted o'er ; 
The ruffian tried within to bide, 

And trip Will on the floor. 

Will, strong as bold, from that dark hold 

To haul him struggled hard ; 
His youthful strength prevailM at length, 

He kept him to the yard. 



LYRICS. 169 

The deep stone tank, where cattle drank, 

He back'd the ruffian o'er ; 
Whose might, at last, was failing fast, 

Hard bruis'd and batter'd sore. 

Clutch'd by the chin the tank within, 

Will held him strongly down; 
The wave apace came o'er his face, 

The robber 'gan to drown. 

" I choke for air — in mercy spare ! — 

To steal your fowls I came ; 
I yield the strife, — spare, spare my life ! 

To drown me were a shame." 

Will mercy lov'd, his soul was mov'd, 

His throttling gripe was easM ; 
" Your life I give — get up and live," — 

The ruffian rose releas'd. 

Alas, poor Will ! the miscreant ill 

DeservM that mercy shown ; 
With dext'rous twirl and backward hurl, 

He tripp'd Will o'er the stone. 



170 LYRICS. 

With might and weight he press'd Will straight, 

Deep in the freezing tank, 
W T hose temples now, and shoulders too, 

The chilling fluid drank. 

Like a young horse, Will writh'd in force, 

Yet destin'd seemM to die : 
Soon from his throat uprose a note 

Of gurgling agony. 

Upright there stood, of knotty wood, 

In the tank-floor a stake ; 
This, (used for plug,) with twist and tug, 

The thief availM to break. 

Then blow on blow he rainM below, 

Till, — winding on his ear, 
On the breeze borne, a distant horn 

The ruffian pausM to hear. 

Dire frownM the gloom of that dark room, 
Will, too, seem'd stark and dead ; 

So with the stroke, as morning broke, 
The murdVer turn'd and fled. 









LYRICS. 171 

His chase the sun has just begun, 
Sweet blows the southern breeze ; 

Both hound and horn now swell the morn's 
Unnumber'd melodies. 

The fleet dogs brush o'er briar and bush, — 

Sir George's hunting-train ; 
At the Crisps' gate, surpris'd, they wait ; 

Sir George drew bridle-rein. 

" Crisp loves the chase, his merry face 

Right glad are we to see. 
Away, there, Tom ! Run, — bid them come," 

Sir George exclaims in glee : 

" My wonder's great that they are late, 

The first to join our pack." 
Scarce was that word of wonder heard, 

When Tom flew, breathless, back. 

" Sir George, alight ! Oh ! sirs, the sight, 

'Twould melt a heart of stone ! 
The Crisps I've found all dead and drown'd, — 

Come down, Sir George, come down ! " 



172 LYRICS. 

Sir George leapt straight the fasten'd gate, 

The hunters follow'd hard ; 
They heeded none, — wall, brick, or stone, 

But vaulted to the yard. 

Low in the tank, all green and dank, 

Will, stunn'd and gory, lay ; 
Its floor of mud was red with blood, 

Its water ebb'd away. 

Will, when the tug had drawn the plug, 

Had scap'd a wat'ry grave ; 
The wave, too, broke the plug's fell stroke, 

As if his life to save. 

Heav'n's guardian Pow'r, in that dread hoi 
Thus made the murd'rous stake 

Will's sole relief, that deem'd the thief 
Destruction's tool to make. 

With pity's thrill they lifted Will, 
All kindness were the throng ; 

Adown his throat their cordials wrought, 
They chaf'd his temples long. 






LYRICS. 173 

Quick to his room they bore him home : 

The father, by the stair, 
Slow, nigh poor Tray, reviving lay ; 

They plac'd him in his chair. 

Strong waters soon dispell'd the swoon, 

And Crisp to sense restor'd ; 
The wond'ring throng to hear him long, 

But Crisp, — he bless'd the Lord ! 

The vet'ran bold the tale then told, 

The room with plaudits rang : 
'Twas the belief the midnight thief 

Was one of Turpin's gang. 

" Who, whence, or what, — I know him not ; 

He's dumb, but tall and big," 
Cried Crisp. " But, see ! the victory 

Is ours, — for here's his wig ! " 

The wig thus found was handed round : 

Cried one, " This caxon grey 
I've seen, — but where, I cannot swear, — 

Somewhere before to-day." 



174 



L YRICS. 



" And I," said one, — " hah ! Padie Gunn, - 

I know it by the tie :" 
With quick acclaim affirm 'd the same 

More of the hunters by. 

For Padie Gunn to most was known, 

A grazier tall and stout ; 
Though long a tale did strange prevail, 

That left his fame in doubt. 

Whence he had come none knew, but some 

Him Turpin's friend believ'd ; 
And that his wealth was gain'd by stealth, 

Through Turpin's hand receiv'd. 

Sir George in haste a warrant trac'd : 

Ere ten had struck the clock, 
On mission sore, at Padie's door 

The officers had knock'd. 

" Your errand, pray ?" — u Oh ! Missis, say, 

Is Mister Gunn at home ? " 
" Oh, no ! By dawn he rose this morn, 

To Smithfield he is gone." 



LYRICS. 175 

" We're sorry, Marm, and mean no harm, 

Our errand may surprise ; 
But — these few lines Sir George has sign'd, 

To search the premises. 1 " 

" Ah ! On my word, how most absurd ! — 

Pray let your search be made," 
With haughty toss and accent cross 

The frowning woman said. 

They search'd on high, they search'd below, 

They search'd e'en under ground ; 
They search'd again, but all in vain, 

No trace of Pad they found. 

Till in despair, as down a stair 

One from the garret sped, 
He haply saw a ceiling-flaw, 

By recent plaster spread. 

"Oh, that? 'Twas done," hemm'd Mistress Gunn, 

" By — bricks the other night ; 
As the wind blew, the ceiling through 

They fell the chimney's height." 



76 LYRICS. 

" No doubt "'twas so ; but, Marm, you know, 

Our consciences to ease, 
At the stair-foot we'll merely put 

This ladder, if you please.'" 

A deathy hue of ashy blue 

Now blanch' d the beldame's cheek, 

Long red with ire, like coals of fire ; 
She tried, — but could not speak. 

They gain'd a roof, scarce weather-proof, 

By blacken'd rafters staid, 
Where the bleak wall and chimney tall 

A dismal angle made. 

There, on some hay, the felon lay, 
One mass of bruise and wound, 

Perdition's son, grim Padie Gunn, 
By hawk-ey'd Justice found. 

The ceiling through they quickly drew 

The robber's pow'rless weight ; 
To judgment hied, — doom'd soon as tried, 

He met a murd'rer's fate. 



LYRICS. 177 

His corpse around with hoops was bound ; 

With pitch besmear'd, his clay 
A warning swang to Padie's gang, 

A feast for birds of prey. 

The Crisps, restor'd, long o'er their board 

Liv'd Providence to thank ; 
The sire, — to show the ceiling low, 

The son, — the favour'd tank. # 

He that has God his guardian made, 
Shall under the Almighty's shade 

In confidence abide : 
Then to my soul of Him I'll say, 
He is my fortress and my stay, 

In whom I will confide. 

* The leading incidents in the above ballad actually occurred in 
Essex, in Turpin's time. A slight change in the name and locality- 
has been made. The only domestic servant was absent for a holiday. 



A POPULAR EPISTLE 



THE UTILITY 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 












ON 

THE UTILITY 

OF THE 

GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 



To W. K , Esq. 

My dear William, 

The subject of this communication is, in my 
humble opinion, of vital importance to the interests of 
education in general, and more especially to those of 
classical pedagogues. As I happen to be one of this 
class, your kindness will doubtless excuse a some- 
what lengthy attempt to refute opinions, which, if 
acted upon, must eventually supersede our occupa- 
tion. You may, perhaps, remember the tenour of our 
conversation the other day. In the course of it you 
expressed your conviction, that the study of the 
Greek and Latin languages was daily becoming less 
necessary, and, in a short period, would fall into 



182 



UTILITY OF THE 



universal desuetude. The reasons you advanced in 
support of these assertions were, that all the best 
compositions in those languages had been translated ; 
and that, in consequence of the improvements in sci- 
entific knowledge, the student would be obliged to 
devote the time, hitherto applied to the study of the 
dead languages, to the theory and practice of Natu- 
ral Philosophy. You moreover remarked, with more 
declamation than argument, that you considered the 
present classical system of tuition as a kind of men- 
tal tread-mill, and the classical tutor's employment 
the grave of genius, and himself like a squirrel in a 
rolling cage, or a mill-horse in a pound. Knowing 
you to be a professed votary of truth, and in the 
habit of weighing the major and minor points of 
propositions previously to decision, I crave pardon 
for believing you in this case to have prejudged the 
question, and somewhat hastily jumped to your con- 
clusion. Against its soundness the ' argumentum 
ad verecundiam' powerfully militates. If it be right, 
then must all the professional tutors of the British 
and Foreign Universities, as well as the great body 
of literati throughout Europe, have been educated 
on a fallacious principle, and at the present moment, 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 183 

also, be advocates of a fallacy. It is freely admitted 
the universality of a system, like the general belief 
in any particular opinion, does not prove the system 
or opinion to be true, but is merely a strong pre- 
sumptive argument in its favour. The strength of 
the presumption will be proportionate to the enlight- 
enment of the times. That the present times are 
enlightened, while the most unremitting efforts are 
being made to separate error from truth, few persons 
will be inclined to dispute. Hence it would appear 
the more unaccountable how so many learned acade- 
mic societies, both at home and abroad, should be all 
pursuing an erroneous course. It is my hope, how- 
ever, you will be fully convinced, from the subjoined 
argument, that their course is not only not erroneous, 
but the rail-road to general attainment. 

Without further preamble, then, it may be obser- 
ved, in support of this position, that new discove- 
ries in science, and new operations in art, are of 
daily occurrence ; and further, that the nomencla- 
ture of such discoveries and operations is of Greek 
and Latin origin. The old nomenclatures, you may 
have remarked, as well as the modern ones, are 
derived from the same inexhaustible magazines of 



184 



UTILITY OF THE 



expression. If the arts and sciences are daily ex- 
panding, and their nomenclatures in the same ratio, 
it will follow that the languages, to which the latter 
belong, must become proportionally more necessary. 
Unquestionably such nomenclature may be learned 
in a technological dictionary ; but Crabbe's Technolo- 
gical Dictionary, though an excellent compilation, 
and sufficiently bulky without the Addenda which the 
last two or three years require, can never be so port- 
able a ' vade-mecum ' in the pocket, as the ' quan- 
tum ' of Latin and Greek in the head sufficient to 
enable the student to dispense with such ponderous 
tomes. You will here doubtless remark, there is no 
necessity for this foreign nomenclature, because the 
authors of new inventions might designate them by 
English appellations.* 

The answer to this objection is obvious. By so 
doing, they would circumscribe the fame of their own 
discoveries. When Dr. Brewster invented his well- 

* Were strength of expression alone requisite, the English tongue 
might be used for the above purposes in preference, because as 
much, or more, can be asserted in it, than in the Greek or Latin, in 
the same number of syllables. Language, however, like an edifice, 
requires certain harmonies. Elegance is indispensable as well as 
strength, and to the dead languages the English owes almost all its 
elegance. 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 185 

known instrument, he did not entitle it ' the-beau- 
tiful-form-beholder,' but the kaleidoscope, a term 
compounded of three Greek words of similar import. 
Every well-educated Englishman or foreigner, on 
hearing of, or seeing, an instrument of the kind, 
would know immediately, by its name, it must be 
some optical improvement. A dead language, thus 
universally learnt and exempt from the mutations 
of living ones, is superior, as a vehicle of universal 
information, to any spoken language but partially 
known. Every well-educated man in the German 
States, in Poland, Prussia, Hungary, and other Euro- 
pean countries, when he hears the word stethoscope 
applied to a particular instrument, knows that it is 
for the purpose of examining the chest. Whereas, 
were the instrument denominated a l breast-viewer,' 
such Saxon appellation would require translation 
into all the languages of Europe, before its purposes 
could be surmised. The telescope, stethoscope, horo- 
scope, microscope, and polariscope ; the theodolite, 
eudiometer, gasometer, anemometer, hygrometer, 
thermometer, barometer, micrometer, and electro- 
meter, with an infinity of scientific inventions, have 
been designated by Greek appellations expressive 



186 UTILITY OF THE 

of their uses. Their nomenclature is so extensive, 
that it would alone fill a volume, which might not 
comprise the technicalities of the fine arts, and of 
the mixed and applied sciences. Nay, the inventor 
of a process for hatching chickens, scorning the un- 
couthness of such an appellation as the ' patent egg- 
hatcher,' has denominated it the Eccaleobeion, a term 
compounded of four Greek words, which imply ' the 
calling life out of an egg/ A patent shoe without a 
seam was called, a few years since, by the sounding 
epithet of the Patent Arraphostic, which denoted its 
seamlessness. Appellations commencing with anti, 
hyper, hypo, dia, peri, and para, are exceedingly nu- 
merous, both in English and in French. A kind of 
patent soap is dignified by the title of Rypophagon, 
or dirt-eater, which latter name would have sounded 
f uncouth to British ear,' though expressive of its 
detergent qualities. Our primitive Saxon would but 
ill supply us with terms for our new institutions, such 
as the Pantechnic, Polytechnic, Gymnastic, Callis- 
thenic, Orthoepic, Orthopedic, Zoologic, etc. ; or for 
the Panorama, Diorama, Cosmorama, Colosseum, 
Museum, Lyceum, Athenaeum, Parthenon, and id 
genus omne. 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 187 

Pope, my dear friend, has aptly observed, that 
1 a little learning is a dangerous thing : ' the prac- 
tice of the present day would seem, however, to dis- 
countenance the poet's assertion, for sciolism seems 
a-la-mode. It is the fashion to drink a i little ' of 
every thing, and consequently not e deeply ' of any 
thing. You will assuredly be convinced, on reflec- 
tion, that a certain degree of familiarity with the 
dead languages is favourable even to sciolistic attain- 
ment. We must therefore limit the application of 
the poet's remark to Theology and Politics, to which 
the lamentable results of revolution in a neighbour- 
ing country show it to be peculiarly applicable. 
Those students, whose excellent motto is Divide 
and Conquer, must at every step experience the uti- 
lity of classical knowledge merely as a verbal help. 
The medical student finds that the two words by 
which his very profession is denoted, together with 
all the terms, major and minor, in anatomy, surgery, 
pharmacy, materia medica, osteology, nosology, 
physiology, craniology, phrenology, botany, chemis- 
try, electricity, and galvanism, are either downright 
Greek or Latin, or immediate derivatives. He finds 
the great masters of his art, Galen, Celsus, Boer- 



188 UTILITY OF THE 

haave, Van Swieten, Gregory, and all modern phy- 
sicians, expressing their knowledge and prescriptions 
in Greek and Latin. Granted, much of their Latin 
is bad ; but he that knows the genuine can easily 
distinguish the spurious, as from the knowledge of 
the good coin the value of the counterfeit is readily 
estimated. In like manner, the naturalist discovers 
nine-tenths of the terms in zoology, entomology, 
phytonomy, mineralogy, conchology, geology, etc. 
to be of classic origin. The law student, in all the 
works of Blackstone, Coke, Wyndham, Holt, and 
other legal writers, meets with classic quotations, 
phrases, and derivatives in every page, and hears 
the happiest expressions used by the compilers of 
the Justinian Code daily and hourly on the tongue of 
our eminent judges, barristers, and other legal lumi- 
naries. He cannot but observe, also, that all the 
varieties of forensic process, writs, pleadings, and 
actions, are designated by Latin appellations. With- 
out Latin, the real meaning of such terms as capias, 
fieri-facias, latitat, assumpsit, ignoramus, qui tarn, 
quo warranto, habeas corpus, de lunatico inquirendo, 
magna charta, ne exeat regno, etc., is but inade- 
quately comprehended : in fact, the Latin technical- 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 189 

ities of the law would alone fill a small volume. It 
is needless to trespass on your time by showing how 
the theologian, mathematician, mechanician, and 
scholars in general, express their leading ideas in 
classic phraseology. Such demonstration would 
exceed epistolary precincts. 

If the preceding remarks be substantially true, it 
will follow that a portion of the Tyro's time cannot 
be better employed than in gaining a knowledge of 
those universal dialects, which will, almost instantly, 
enable him, in adult age, to master the vocabulary 
and peculiar literature of the profession that he may 
embrace. Literary institutions, established and sup- 
ported by the best authorities, are spreading rapidly 
through our provincial towns. Many persons, in the 
habit of attending the lectures delivered in them, do 
not hesitate to avow, that much of what they hear 
is unintelligible on account of technicalities, even 
when the lecturer studies simplification and a po- 
pular style of address. It is admitted such persons 
may prepare themselves before-hand for the full 
comprehension of a lecture, by gleaning its techni- 
calities from a dictionary; as a traveller, projecting 
a trip to France, may tutor himself for the «rea 



190 



UTILITY OF THE 



wTepoevra of the road, and the expression of his wants, 
by books of dialogues. It is still more true that 
both parties would enjoy, the former his lecture and 
the latter his trip, with infinitely more intellectual 
gratification, if more conversant with the language 
to which they are about to listen. On the subject 
of nomenclature, you are doubtless by this time 
disposed to exclaim, " Sat prata biberunt." 

It may be next observed, that the study of the 
dead languages will not merely facilitate the stu- 
dent's progress in the sciences, by enabling him to 
decompound their nomenclatures : should it be his 
aim to attain the most useful and polished lan- 
guages of Europe, viz. the French, Spanish, Italian, 
and Portuguese, he will indeed test the utility of his 
Latin acquirements, and find the old Roman lan- 
guage the master-key to the mint of their literature. 
A short special illustration will more clearly eluci- 
date my argument than general assertion. I beg, 
therefore, permission to take a passage, at random, 
from Gil Bias, and to place its Latin roots in juxta- 
position ; by which arrangement, in my humble opi- 
nion, the close affinity of the languages will more 
forcibly arrest your conviction. 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 191 

Meus magister appellavit unum medicum qui mihi 
Mon maitre appella im medecin qui me 

dixit bonus me habere bene observatum quod 

dit bonnement apres m' avoir bien observe que 

mea malacia* erat plus seria quam homines f ne pen- 
ma maladie etait plus serieuse qu' on ne pen- 

sabant et quod secundum tota ilia apparentia 
soit et que selon toutes les apparences je garderais 

longum tempus illam cameram. Ille doctus impatiens 
long temps la chambre. Le docteur impatient 

de se reddere ad suam cathedram ne judicavit punctumj 
de se rendre a sa cathedrale ne jugea point 

ad propositum de retardare suura partum.§ Ille amabat 
k-propos de retarder son depart. II aim a 

melius prendere unum alterum pro illi servire. 

mieux prendre un autre garcon pour le servir. 

Ille se continuit de m* u.r.a.v donare || ad sinum r de una 
II se contenta de m* abandonner aux soins d* une 

* One meaning of which is, " a deranged stomach.'' 
f It is probable the w am " was elided before the h, and quam 
horn pronounced quom. 
X One meaning of which is, " the sending forth a colony." 
§ From pun^o, implying not a , or tittle. 
|J Aliter, from " ban of the church." 
c Whence also sew.. 



192 UTILITY OF THE 

ad qualem ille lassavit imam summam de argento 
garde a laquelle il laissa une somme d' argent, 

pro me in terram si morerer, aut pro recumpensare 
pour m' enterrer si je mourrais, ou pour recompenser 

mea servitia si revenirem de mea malacia. 
mes services sije revenais de ma maladie. 

So much for the affinity between the Latin and 
French. Allow me next to arrange similarly a quo- 
tation from Don Eugenio de Ochoa's compilation, 
called Tesoro del Teatro Espahoh 

Paucae personae pro pauco quod se habent dedicatos 
Pocas personas por poco que se hayan dedicado 

ad cultum de illae bellae literae, ignorant istam veritatem 
al cultivo de las bellas letras, ignoran esta verdad 

trivialem et tantas vices repetitam quod illud theatrum 
trivial y tantas veces repetida que el teatro 

Hispanise est a casu illud magis quod posseditnon 

Espaiiol es a caso el mas rico que posee 

aliqua una natio. Porro theatrum Hispaniae tarn 

nincuna nacion. Pero ese teatro Espaiiol tan 

universe decantatum generaliter cognitum. Aut 
universalmente decantado generalmente conocido. 

pro melius dicere admiratio traditionalis ad ilia an- 

por mejor decer esa admiracion tradicional a los an- 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 



193 



tiqua ingenia draraatica Hispaniae de cognitione 
tiguos ingenios dramaticos Espagiioles del conociemento 
et studio de sua opera aut debemus considerare quomodo 
y estudio de sus obras o debemos considerarla como 

una de quales eftea vulgaria moneta carrens in 
una de aquellas ideas vulgares, moneda corriente en 

totus illos tempus et in totus pagus quae a fortis 

todos los tempos y en todos los paises, que a fuerza 

de repetitse se adrnittunt sine discussione et se 

de oirlos repetidas se admiten sin discusion y se 

perpetuant quomodo veritates inconcussae. 
perpetuan como verdades inconcusas. 

A similar comparison of the Portuguese with the 
Latin is unnecessary, as the former is but a dialect 
of the Spanish, mixed perhaps with fewer Moorish 
words. With one quotation from the Italian, this 
point of argument may conclude. 

Tanta alta merita quae concurrunt et illi habere semper 
Tanti alti meriti che concorrono et 1' aver sempre 

procuratum ilium honorem de ilia patria sunt sto po- 
procurato 1' onore della patria sono stati 

tentia motiva per quae isti Nobilissimi Senatores 
potenti motivi per che cotesti Nobilissimi Signori 

o 



194 UTILITY OF THE 

ilium habent electum pro esse ad illam testam 

1' anno eletta per esser alia testa della 

illorum cum pagus et habent stabilitum unum com- 
loro compagnia e hanno stabilito un co- 

mercium plus ad ventum sine dubio ad illam 
mercio il piu vantaggioso senza dubbio alia 

Grandis Britannia quod redundat ad beneficium coin- 
Gran Brittagna che ridonda al beneficio co- 

mune de ilia patria et contribuet ad opulentiam splen- 
mune della patria et contribuisce all' opulenza splen- 

dorem et magnificentiam de civitates et ad manu teneo 
didezza e magnificenza di cittatidini ed al manteni- 

de unus numerus infmitus de pauperes. 
mento d' un numero infinito di poveri. 

Let me not be understood to infer from the pre- 
ceding arrangements, that all sentences written in 
these languages will furnish, when similarly paral- 
leled, an equal amount of Latin roots ; though it 
maybe confidently advanced that, when thus treated, 
at least three-fifths of them will be found a disguised 
Roman language. A fair inspection of the preceding 
parallels will assuredly convince any unprejudiced 
mind, that the Latin is the master-key to the gar- 
den of European learning ; the key, not the garden 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 195 

itself; the scaffold, not the building; for we must 
ever remember, my dear friend, the mere knowledge 
of sounds is not the knowledge of things. It is 
not extraordinary so large a portion of our English 
words, particularly of our polysyllables, should be 
of Latin origin, when it is considered that the 
Romans occupied this country nearly five hundred 
years; and that, from the time of Julius Caesar to 
the present day, their literature has been more or 
less influential on our diction. Many compositions, 
even of the last century, are but partially intelligible 
to the merely English scholar. The Rambler, the 
Tatler, the Spectator, even the best of Sir Walter's 
novels, abound with Latin mottoes and quotations. 

The very ritual of our faith, the Church Prayer- 
Book, still retains, at the head of each psalm, its an- 
cient Catholic commencement. The great museum 
of antiquity, with its imperishable records of coins, 
epitaphs, statues, inscriptions, seals, manuscripts, 
and title-deeds, becomes locked and sealed to those 
wholly unacquainted with the dead languages. Who, 
in this age of light, would not wish his child to be 
able to read the Book of Life in the original ? Who 
would wish him so illiterate that, when sauntering 
o 2 



196 UTILITY OF THE 

amid the mouldering tombs, where haply his fathers 
repose, he should be unable to construe the epitaph 
and distich commemorative of their titles, virtues, 
and pursuits? Who would not regret his inability 
to tell the meaning of the hacknied ' tempus fugit ' 
on the dial, reminding him of the swift lapse of time, 
and thereby rousing him to energy ? or even of the 
1 resurgam ' and ' in ccelo quies ' on the funeral 
hatchment in the street, tacitly monitorial of future 
responsibility, and the promise of future happiness ? 
Should the tourist, thirsty for information, enter a 
continental cathedral, the solemn invocation of 'or a 
pro nobis ' sounds in his ears. Is it proper that the 
marble volumes in Westminster Abbey, which direct 
our patriotic youth to remember and to emulate 
British worth and prowess, should be intelligible to 
most well-educated foreigners, but beyond the pe- 
rusal of our fellow-countrymen as much as if written 
in Arabic or Hindostanee ? Many of our own, and 
most foreign public edifices and trophies, have Latin 
inscriptions. The legend on the very coin of the 
realm, ' victoria dei gra : reg: fid : def:' is not 
fully comprehensible without some knowledge of 
Latin; nor are the legends of the Grecian, Roman, 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 197 

British, and of foreign coins in general. How irre- 
fragably does the legend ' jud^a capta/ on the 
coin which represents a female mourning under a 
palm-tree, attest the fact of the conquest of Judeea, 
as recorded by historians ! and how effectually does 
it silence scepticism and infidelity, as to the fact 
itself! On the armorial scroll of almost every car- 
riage is a Latin motto, which perhaps, by habitual 
recurrence from infancy, awakens its bearer to a 
sense of moral duty. The mottoes of the public 
companies, e. g. that of the Greenwich railway, — 
Crescit eundo ; or of the Salters' — Sal sapit omnia ; 
nay, some of their very names, as the Atlas, the 
Phoenix, the Argus, etc. are, to a classic mind, signs 
of many ideas. 

During the last fifty years, politics have been much 
more freely discussed in England and in France 
than at any previous period. The English and 
French of a certain age, are generally fond of poli- 
tics. Ought not the politician, when he takes up the 
journal of the day to read the speeches of his fa- 
vourite clique, to be able to appreciate the Latin quo- 
tations by which its members illustrate and corro- 
borate their arguments ? The French themselves, on 



198 UTILITY OF THE 

recovering from the Vandal enthusiasm, which pro- 
scribed all antiquity as a dead letter, have partially 
returned to the ancient system of education, and now 
require their naval and military cadets to be able to 
construe and explain Ccesars Commentaries, when 
examined for certificate. A common observation 
among the French is, " Oh ! vraiment, la langue 
Franeaise est calquee sur le Latin."* — But enough 
of this. 

If an education merely English be given to our 
youth, in what respect will they be superior to the 
pupils educated on the present liberal and improv- 
ed system in our national schools ? In pleading 
for the daily utility of the dead languages, no one 

* Sir Nathaniel Wraxall, in his interesting Memoirs, vol. i., gives 
the following copy of an inscription on the wall of an apartment in 
the Temple, at Paris, which is supposed to have been written, or 
pricked out, by the unhappy Madame Royale during her incarcera- 
tion : " Marie Theresc Charlotte est la plus malheureuse personne 
du monde. Elle ne peut pas recevoir des nouvelles de son pere, ni 
de sa mere, quoiqu' elle Test demande milles fois." Sir Nathaniel 
points out, as inaccuracies of expression in this sentence, ' recevoir ' 
for 'procurer,' and 'Test' for ' l'ait.' Sir Nathaniel's corrected 
version, so far from being accurate, contains two solecisms and one 
orthographical error. The 'Test' should be ' les ait,' 'demande' 
9 demandees,' and ' milles ' ' mille.' Had Sir Nathaniel cultivated 
his Latin more carefully, these errors would not have escaped him. 
—(Vol. i. page 220. 1836.) 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 199 

would recommend so preposterous a measure as that 
every student should endeavour to become a first- 
rate Latin and Greek scholar. There are, perhaps, 
not more than three or four such prodigies in the 
world at the present day. By the epithet * first- 
rate scholar/ is implied one who has a thoroughly 
critical knowledge of the languages; who can cor- 
rectly and elegantly compose in them, in prose or 
verse, on any moral subject, without note or book of 
reference ; and lastly, who can construe and explain 
some seventy tomes of their literature. It will be 
readily seen, that such scholarship is the work of a 
life ; and even then, at the end of it, the dialogue of 
the language would be but imperfectly acquired, the 
familiarities and licences of which could only be at- 
tained by frequenting good Roman society for some 
years; but such society no longer exists. Moreover, 
the temporary and conventional meaning of some 
words and phrases can now be never learned, for the 
same reason. The fact is, that the study of most 
foreign languages, dead or living, developes difficul- 
ties in the prosecution, which were not obvious at 
the outset. The pursuit of science constantly pre- 
sents unanticipated retardation. Geography, for in- 



200 UTILITY OF THE 

stance, at the first glance, appears an extremely easy 
study. Its divisions and sub-divisions are soon 
learnt; but, as we progress in the science, and begin 
to consider its physical, mathematical, and political 
relations, and to compare the ancient and modern 
systems, we then find " hill on hill, and Alp on Alps 
arise." Truly has the prince of modern geographers, 
D'Anville, observed that " there are still many diffi- 
culties in Geography." We not unfrequently hear 
of polyglotic scholars, who possess a knowledge of 
sixteen or more different languages. That there are 
linguists who know six, or seven, or eight different 
tongues well, experience may convince us ; but that 
any mortal ever acquired a knowledge, beyond that 
of the mere vocabularies, of sixteen or seventeen, 
would be an unsafe assertion. Mithridates is said 
to have known twenty-four, and to have adminis- 
tered justice in them. These, however, allowing for 
Eastern exaggeration, were probably cognate Asiatic 
dialects, and not radically different languages. The 
ability of Themistocles to remember the names of 
the soldiers in the Grecian army is not so question- 
able, when it is considered they were in clans, like 
the Campbells, Frasers, &c. of the Highlands. It is 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 201 

commonly observed among students, that the Greek 
is never thoroughly learned, and that hundreds have 
grown grey and died in the attempt. 

In resumption of the argument, after craving 
pardon for this long digression, let me direct your 
attention to our floating batteries, steam and mer- 
chant ships. Are not three-fourths of them distin- 
guished by classical names ? When we read of the 
Ajax, Bellerophon, Dejanira, Agamemnon, Diomed, 
Ulysses, Naiad, Dryad, Nereid, Centaur, Chimaera, 
Bellona, Neptune, Triton, Amphitrite, Castor, Caesar, 
Mars, Jupiter, Diana, Apollo, Hector, and Andro- 
mache, we find the principal names in classic my- 
thology and history closely associated with British 
prowess. To such an extent has this nomenclature 
been carried, that it comprises almost every charac- 
ter of note. 

The foregoing remarks, my dear friend, are, I trust, 
sufficient to prove the daily utility of the Classics as 
a verbal help. That the study of them is of daily 
benefit to the taste, time, limits, and qualifications 
will not allow me to show. It may be remarked 
however, en passant, that taste in language partly 
consists in the selection and employment of beautiful 






202 UTILITY OF THE 

metaphors. It cannot be denied that the dead lan- 
guages have enriched the living ones with their most 
tasteful metaphoric expressions, such as Martial 
heroism, Herculean strength, Protean policy, Au- 
gean stable, Augustan refinement, Hebean beauty, 
Adonic loveliness, Hygeian temples, Gorgon features, 
Circaean cup, Cyclopean architecture, Vesper bell, 
Agrarian law, Lyncean penetration, Sardonic grin, 
Saturnine complexion, Promethean fire, Nectareous 
juice, Stentorian lungs, Elysian bowers, Sisyphean 
labour, Halcyon days, Hydra-headed monster, Pro- 
crustean system, Bacchanalian orgies, Vestal purity, 
Mercurial talent, Boreal blasts, Comic scenes, Hy- 
meneal bliss, etc., ad infinitum. 

How strikingly are the varieties of human charac- 
ter expressed by historic art and mythologic tropes ! 
The man who has attained the acme of effeminacy 
is styled a Sybarite or a Sardanapalus ; of pride, a 
Lucifer ; of musical talent, an Orpheus ; of tragic 
excellence, a Roscius ; of pictorial skill, an Apelles ; 
of sensuality, a Satyr ; of ambition, a Phaeton ; of 
duplicity, a Janus ; of apathy, a Stoic ; of voluptuous- 
ness, an Epicurean ; of honest fame, an Aristides ; 
of chastity, a Lucretia; of conjugal faith, a Penelope; 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 203 

of surly integrity, a Cerberus; of vigilance, an Argus; 
of deceptive fascination, a Syren; of hoary wisdom, a 
Nestor ; of cruelty, a Nero ; of gluttonous infamy, an 
Heliogabalus; of disgusting rapacity, a Harpy; of 
enormous sensuality, a Caligula ; of legal severity, a 
Draco; of pliant subserviency, a Satellite. Such ex- 
pressions as Pegasus, Hippocrene, Lethe, Ambrosia, 
Stagyrite, Neophyte, Acolyte, Proselyte, Plebeian, 
Patrician, Corypheeus, Hybrid, CEdipus, Lacon, and 
a host of similar ones, daily present themselves in 
general literature. Each of such terms, whether 
dissyllabic or polysyllabic, is a volume of moral 
description. 

With what tasteful emblems do the Greek and 
Roman architecture and sculpture furnish the mind ! 
Phlegmatic, truly, must be the soul, that can con- 
template them without being smitten by their beau- 
ty, without an improvement both in taste and feel- 
ing. Can we imagine a grander personification of 
wisdom than the common statue of Minerva ? femi- 
nine from wisdom's loveliness ; in invulnerable and 
shining mail from its brilliancy and incontrovertible- 
ness ; armed, too, with the spear, shield, and segis, 
emblematic of wisdom's triumph over ignorance ; 



204 UTILITY OF THE 

of fabled origin from Jupiter's brain, because even 
the benighted heathen saw, that from the great First 
Cause all knowledge must have emanated. On re- 
garding the ancient statue of Saturn, how strikingly 
does the aged, but muscular, figure exhibit the du- 
ration, yet constant freshness, of time ! What a fine 
emblem of eternity is the serpent in his hand, with 
the tail in its mouth, devouring itself, as it were, and 
forming the ring without beginning and without end ! 
while the animal itself, from the annual renovation of 
its skin, is further typical of immortality. The scythe, 
again, depicts Time's destroying power; the large 
wings, the mighty rapidity of his flight. The lock 
on the fore-part of the cranium inculcates prompti- 
tude ; while the baldness of the cerebellum indicates 
the futility of attempting to overtake him when once 
passed by. # The Roman fasces is, perhaps, as fine 
a symbol of strength consisting in unity, as could be 
devised. Well, also, is the elastic character of true 
courage, ever seeking, even under depression, to reco- 
ver its right position, expressed by the elastic palm- 

* I would here deprecate the imputation of wishing to 'tutorize,' 
my sole object being to awaken reminiscences which, once fami- 
liar, may have become somewhat obselete, and, like old friends, may 
not be unwelcome. 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 205 

branch, the symbol of victory. What a pleasing- 
type of the freshness and evergreenness of poetry is 
the laurel that entwines the shining locks of beard- 
less Apollo ! How expressive of the blessings of 
peace and industry is the olive of Minerva; and how 
typical of conjugal bliss are the myrtle and doves of 
Venus, as the torch of Hymen is of its warmth and 
purity ! No less affecting symbols are the inverted 
and quenched torches, in our modern catacombs, 
which denote more vividly than language the chill 
nature of separation and death. How concisely are 
Tragedy and Comedy, with all their attributes, ex- 
pressed by the simple sock and buskin ! We con- 
stantly meet with cornucopia, caduceus, Pandora's 
box, the aegis of the constitution, the galaxy of 
beauty, the palladium of freedom, the apple of dis- 
cord, the cup and the lip, the arrow of Cupid, the 
thread of life, the fiat of fate, the cap of liberty, the 
Gordian knot, the arena of disputation, the scales of 
Justice, the focus of corruption, the clue of the laby- 
rinth, with an infinity of other figurative phrases. 

Without multiplying further verbal examples, I 
would observe that it is not sufficient to know the 
bare meaning of the preceding expressions. The well- 



206 



UTILITY OF THE 



regulated mind is not satisfied with learning what 
particular shape or quantum of brick and mortar 
may compose a Metope or a Caryatid figure ; it must 
have some acquaintance with the etymology and his- 
tory of such words as well. On our very mantel- 
pieces, cornices, architraves, pediments, and capitals; 
nay, on our fenders and grates, we see some Hellenic 
border, honeysuckle, lotus, or acanthus, to remind 
us of our debt of taste to polished Greece. How 
much do the capitals of Europe owe her and Rome 
for the invention of those unchanged and unchange- 
able orders of architecture, to or from which not a 
line can be added nor detracted without spoiling 
their proportion, light and shade ! 

The obligation, which the moderns are under to 
the Greeks, for enabling them to form a correct taste 
in heroic and lyric Poetry, Painting, Sculpture, and 
Architecture ; in Geometry, Grammar, Logic, and 
History; in Tragedy and Comedy, may be apprecia- 
ted, but cannot be repaid. Let us then requite the 
debt we owe our tutors at least with gratitude. Let 
the Oxonian, justly proud of his logical acumen, re- 
flect on his obligations to the great Aristotle, for 
having bequeathed to posterity the only true method 






GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 207 

of moral reasoning by syllogism and category. The 
Gremial of Granta will do well to consider, how 
vain would have been the genius of immortal New- 
ton, had not the equally immortal Euclid prepared 
it wings to span the immensity of space ; vain, too, 
the analytic lucubrations of Euler and Laplace, had 
not Diophantus previously bequeathed them a clue 
to the mazes of algebra, wherewith he threaded in- 
tricacies through which, even with the clue, they 
have found it no easy task to follow him. Where 
would have been the glories of the Vatican and the 
Louvre ; where the sculpture of Michael Angelo and 
Canova, had not Phidias and Praxiteles hewed the 
breathing statue from the Parian block ? Where the 
sublimity of Milton, the nerve of Dryden, the har- 
mony of Pope, the dithyrambic grandeur of Gray, 
the sweet dignity of Thomson, had not Homer, Pin- 
dar, Theocritus, and Anacreon, with a host of Latin 
imitators, taught them how to string and tune their 
harps ? 

Unquestionably, the leading facts in ancient his- 
tory, mythology, and in military, naval, and civil 
antiquities, may be acquired by the English student 
from various English compilations; and the import 



208 UTILITY OF THE 

of particular words may be found in vocabularies; 
yet, as the Greek and Latin languages express most 
of the modifications of action, passion, time, person, 
etc., by change of termination, our acquaintance with 
these tongues will be slender indeed, if limited to 
their vocabularies. Surely, my dear friend, it is bet- 
ter that the student should acquire in early life, in 
the usual and regular course of classical instruction, 
knowledge thus indispensable to a liberal education. 

" Qui apprend jeune, apprend quinze fois." 

Let him, then, in the morning outset take such a last- 
ing draught at the fountain-head, as will spare him 
the trouble of recurring to the stream in the noon 
and eve of his career. 

I am aware that strong efforts are being made in 
certain quarters to banish from, or at least to curtail 
the study of Latin and Greek in our seminaries, in 
order, possibly, to introduce that of the German in 
their stead. It is not at all surprising a mania for 
change, both in the method and objects of tuition, 
should exist, when we consider that a mania for 
change, in almost every function of society, has ex- 
isted for the last fifty years. Besides, such is the 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 209 

love in the human mind of novelty, that, did it pos- 
sess a hundred-fold more powerful faculties than it 
does at present, it would never be satisfied; for being 
itself infinite, it can never be satisfied with finite 
knowledge. A mania is harmless while confined to 
the cut of a Stultzean coat, a Gottingen cap, or an 
Oldenburg bonnet. When, however, it has reference 
to a subject so important as education, on which 
" depends the fate of nations," the indulgence in it, 
and the cui bono, become serious questions. 

A coincidence of indescribable circumstances may 
favour the contagion of a mania. In consequence of 
the unbounded facility of communication in the pre- 
sent day by post, press, and rail, new and striking opi- 
nions make the tour of the United Kingdom in a few 
days. An observation, much in vogue at present, is 
a that the German language is the finest in Europe."* 
Influenced by this, and several similarly plausible 
assertions, some besin to think it hi^h time to aban- 
don what is called the old system, (as if the ever-to- 
be laid foundations of elementary knowledge could 

* Most of the educated Germans firmly believe this to be the 
ease. The Welsh entertain the same opinion of their language. 
— Vide the last page of the Rev. Mr. Davies' Treatise on the Welsh 
Tongue. 

P 



'210 UTILITY OF THE 

ever be old,) and to commence the study of German 
in its stead. The peculiar merits that may entitle 
the German to this pre-eminence, yet remain to be 
exhibited. Euphony assuredly is not one of them, 
whether we consider the euphony of its prose, its 
dialogue, or its poetry. It is not likely that, even in 
a fair Saxon mouth, it can ever compete with the 
vocal Italian, as a vehicle for " words that breathe 
and thoughts that burn." It was with the greatest 
difficulty so good a judge of his native language as 
Frederick the Great, was convinced to the contrary, 
and there is no doubt that his real conviction re- 
mained unshaken. This competition it can never 
successfully maintain, till divested of its Teutonic 
burr, its Celtic guttural, and Anglo sibilance ; until, 
moreover, it discards the Gothic characters of its 
alphabet, and adopts the simpler ones employed 
by other European nations. Nor is it likely the Ger- 
man will ever supersede the French as a language 
of diplomacy and conversation. Should a Congress 
again assemble at Vienna or Paris, the language 
employed by the various functionaries in corres- 
pondence, debate, and colloquy, would probably be 
the French, as heretofore, and not the German. 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 211 

First, on account of the acknowledged superiority of 
the former in conversation, precision, and, above all, 
invariability of expression : and secondly, because 
it is unlikely the Southern diplomatists, by whom 
French is readily acquired, in consequence of its 
being sprung from the same parent as their own 
tongues, viz. the Latin, will ever master a lang;uao;e 
with which their own has so little affinity. Hence it 
may be fairly inferred, that the German will never be 
the leading or first language of Europe. That its 
literary treasures are very great, is undeniable ; but 
that our own native ones are greater, may be confi- 
dently advanced. The student, who is deeply read 
in the Euglish literature of the last two centuries, 
after perusing, in toil and watchfulness, the best 
tomes of German divinity, poems, philosophy, and 
general literature, will perhaps find his mind unset- 
tled on most established opinions, and that he has 
only been labouring to construe what has alreadv 
been better expressed in his own less Gothic lan- 
guage. Thus will he haply remind us of the tourist, 
who, tired with foreign scenery, climes, and habits, 
finds England at last ' quite good enough for him,' 
and regrets he should ever have spent so much 

p 2 



212 UTILITY OF THE 

valuable time in search of the foreign picturesque, 
while the beauties of his native England remained 
unknown and unappreciated. It may be well to re- 
member also the German is a very copious language ; 
and, although an indifferent facility of conversation 
may be attained in a year or two, that it will be the 
work of many to gain a satisfactory knowledge of 
its scientific, sentimental, and above all, of its mys- 
tical authors. 

You will, I trust, pardon this digression on the 
subject of the German, inasmuch as it emanates from 
a sincere, though perhaps erroneous conviction, that 
the ultimate benefits derivable from its literature will 
by no means equal the student's preconceived expec- 
tations ; or, at least, will not adequately repay his 
expense of time and trouble in deviating from the 
trodden course. Should he persist in that course, 
already hallowed by so many illustrious footsteps, let 
him be cautious how he mistakes every ignis fatuus 
which flits across it, for a safety-beacon to a literary 
El Dorado ; let him be cautious how he listens to 
the Dousterswivels of the day, who profess to dis- 
cover to him intellectual ores, that his own insular 
fogginess of vision prevents him from descrying. A 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 213 

sound knowledge of the Greek, Latin, and French 
Languages, with a tolerable command of the Italian, 
and some acquaintance w r ith the Spanish, have long- 
been considered indispensable to a finished educa- 
tion. If the student be called upon to master a 
sixth language, as difficult from copiousness and 
phraseology as any of the former, he will naturally 
be led to ask what time will be left him to examine 
those branches of the tree of science which are daily 
expanding, as the means of intellectual culture is 
improved? Is all his time to be spent on dialects, 
the mere knowledge of which canuot, per se, be 
called learning? It may be justly apprehended that 
such a division of the powers wall lead to general 
sciolism, whereby the student will become a talker 
in every thing, and a master of nothing. 

There can be little doubt that the Greeks arrived 
at the ' ne plus ultra ' in the fine arts and abstract 
sciences, because they had no language but their 
own to learn, and concentrated their thoughts to 
the attainment of a few objects. From what they 
did in so short a space of time, we may judge of 
what they might have done, had they not lived 
before the ' fulness of time was come : ' before the 



214 UTILITY Or THE 

Christian dispensation could sanction and establish 
their political and educational systems. As similar 
causes will ever produce similar results, it is most 
probable they would have ultimately attained an 
excellence in the mixed and applied sciences, similar 
to that in the abstract ones, and in the fine arts. 
The introduction of German to the exclusion, or con- 
siderable curtailment, of classic literature, with its 
concomitant new primers, grammars, dictionaries, 
dialogues, short and easy methods, and other ele- 
mentary ' tromperie/ will be an event ever to be de- 
plored. I truly hope the impression to this effect 
may have been produced, not by sound argumenta- 
tion, but by educational quackery, which, like that 
in politics and medicine, is the bane of the age.* 
Delatinize modern English, and the jackdaw, with its 
borrowed plumes, will indeed become a scarecrow. 

It has been before remarked, that a dead lan- 
guage, as an universal means of communication, is 
superior to a living one. A dead language is exempt 
from change. Our own, for centuries, has been in 

* It is needless to observe, that the above remarks respecting the 
German, are principally applicable to such students as intend to 
proceed through the public schools to the universities. 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 2ih 

constant mutation. Spenser could hardly compre- 
hend the vocabulary of Chaucer, nor the wits of 
Charles the Second's age that of Spenser; while 
Milton's diction began to appear antiquated to Ad- 
dison and his cotemporaries, so Addison's, in a very 
slight degree, savours of antiquity in our taste, both 
as regards orthography and phraseology. The ques- 
tion has been asked, whether, if all works that are 
now termed standard were transferred into Latin, 
they would not be more likely to go down the 
stream of time with less prospect of sinking in its 
vortex ? A tolerable Latinist may make his wants 
known over as large an area of the globe by means of 
Latin, as he could by the French or German singly. 
In reply to your observation, that the study of the 
heathen mythology is calculated to lessen religious 
belief, it appears on a par with Rousseau's notion of 
the impropriety of teaching children by fable, so 
successfully confuted by Cowper. It would seem, 
on the contrary, that the wondrous holiness and su- 
perlative beauty of our religion are exhibited more 
forcibly in contrast with the impurity and loathsome- 
ness of divinities, whose attributes were rage, revenge, 
and lust; whose votaries believed the events of futu- 



216 UTILITY 01 THE 

rity could be predicted from the feeding of a chicken, 
or a spot in the intestines of an animal. You also 
remarked, that improper sentiment might arise from 
the study of the ancient poetry. This objection has 
been, and is often made; and yet the refutation is 
easy. Because (which seems a fact) some French 
and English authors have outraged all decency, and 
far exceeded the antients in licentious composition, 
are not the French and English languages to be stu- 
died ? Is there not enough aliment in Homer and 
Xenophon's voluminous works ; in Thucydides, He- 
rodotus, and the Greek theatre and philosophy ; is 
there not plenty of rich food in Livy, in the ten vo- 
lumes of Cicero's oratory and philosophic disquisi- 
tions, in the pages of Virgil, Curtius, Nepos, Caesar, 
Quinctilian, and of numerous others, to fatten the 
young intellect without garbage ? Besides youth do 
not construe objectionable passages with adult feel- 
ings ; and where such do occur, (for which, by the 
by, there is no necessity,) every qualified tutor knows 
how to make a whole class construe them without 
perception of their real import. Ancient improprie- 
ties have been aptly compared to the infant's nudity, 
and modern ones to the cyprian's. 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 217 

If, my dear friend, the usefulness of the dead lan- 
guages has been established by the preceding obser- 
vations, and if they are the only key to a rich garden 
of study, whose endless productions must, more or 
less, become the objects of the student's considera- 
tion, it follows that a pupil ought to begin the clas- 
sical course in early life. Certainly at not a later 
period than the seventh year. The standard of re- 
quirement has been considerably raised, and very 
properly so, in the examinations at both the univer- 
sities, in the inns of court, in the apothecaries' and 
surgeons' halls, in the military and naval colleges, 
and in the public schools. By early commence- 
ment, the Tyro surmounts the task of ' hie, hsec, 
hoc,' and 'j'aime, tu aime, il aime,' at a time when 
he is careless, and would as soon learn one thing as 
another ; whereas, should the dry bones of grammar 
be given for the mind to feed upon at the age of 
fourteen or fifteen, when it is longing for palpable, 
tangible solidities, the task of digestion and rumina- 
tion becomes insufferably tedious; because the ex- 
panded mind will ever feel galled at being obliged 
to commence at noon, what ought to have been 
begun in the morning. Nine of the ' seri studiorum' 



218 



UTILITY OF THE 



out of ten, either forego the task through despond- 
ency, or, on arriving at mediocrity, are inflated with 
extravagant conceit. When a pupil is learning l amo, 
amas, amat,' and 'j'aime, tu aime, il aime,' he is 
acquiring, at the same time, his own language in 
the corresponding words, ' I love, thou lovest, he 
loves.' 

But it is not in mere etymology, in the mere 
declension, conjugation, and derivation of words, 
that the youthful student is benefited. It is not that 
his memory alone is improved by the daily enlarge- 
ment of his vocabulary. While learning the princi- 
ples of Latin concords and government, he is learn- 
ing simultaneously most of those which regulate the 
French and other European languages, and, analo- 
gically, his own. By the constant consideration of 
particular compounds and synonymes, he acquires a 
facility of appropriate expression, and of l putting 
the best word in the best place."' He discerns the 
shades and gradations in the import of words, those 
almost imperceptible ' nuances d'expression,' which 
are so difficult to appreciate. The more nearly words 
approximate, the more difficult is our perception of 
their essential differences. The eye readily discerns 



GREEK. AND LATIN CLASSICS. 219 

contrasted colours, but is obliged to consider approx- 
imate tints in careful collocation, duly to estimate 
their force. But words are the colours in which we 
paint our thoughts, and the links that ' blend the 
social chain.' How necessary it is, then, that their 
connexion and dependence should be precisely and 
adequately ascertained. 

With reference to construing, much more is gained 
by that praxis than a certain amount of Latin and 
Greek words. Every construing lesson may be, and 
ought to be, made a means of spiritual and moral 
improvement, both by contrast and parallel. From 
the rigidly literal translation of mood for mood, case 
for case, and tense for tense, the pupil proceeds to 
express his thoughts more idiomatically in the mo- 
ther-tongue. When further proficient, he ventures 
on freer translation, leaves the letter and tries to catch 
the spirit. He is next supplied with the skeletonized 
subject, in order that he may fill it up with a body 
of his own self-emanated ideas, and clothe them in 
his own language. By such exercise, not merely 
the memory, but the grander faculties of reason and 
imagination, are strengthened. Nor can the young 
mind be continually employed in construing the 



220 UTILITY OF THE 

Grecian and Roman histories, without gleaning use- 
ful information. Among profane histories, no one, 
for examples of prudent counsel, grand action, and 
heroic conduct, is superior to that of the Roman re- 
public. None are superior to the Roman historians 
in fertility and strength of sentiment, in propriety, 
elegance, and copiousness of diction. Surely no 
pupil can peruse their interesting details, (under pro- 
per explanation and comparison,) without improve- 
ment in the tone of his moral feelings, and in his 
general knowledge of the religion, politics, customs, 
manners, laws, and civil and military antiquities of 
the two greatest nations that the earth ever beheld. 

In perusing the poets with due guidance, the young 
imagination, that glorious faculty, is quickened by 
glowing sentiments of heroism and other virtues, 
captivated by graphic descriptions of natural beauty, 
and excited by stirring incidents of ' field and flood.' 
The practice of Latin versification imparts the me- 
chanism of verse in all languages ; while that of elo- 
cution attunes the ear to lyric and heroic rhythm 
and melody, and the tongue to recitation and public 
speaking. The pupil, on finding his inability to make 
his line with this or that particular word, taxes his 









GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 221 

memory, or his Gradus, for a synonyme, with or 
without an epithet, as circumstances may require. 
If such do not exist, as the thought must still be 
expressed, he excites his invention to an equivalent 
expression. 

" Mille trahens varia secum ratione colores, 
Mille modis aperire datur mentisque latebras, 
Quique latent tacito arcani sub pectore motus." 

Such a practice must certainly be the best exercise 
for the faculties. It must also impart a knowledge 
of the vernacular tongue, because the pupil, while 
thus engaged, after all thinks in his own language. 

However, my dear friend, " aurem vellit Apollo. " 
I truly hope the consideration of the foregoing pages 
will convince you, that a knowledge of the dead 
languages is not merely an elegant, and therefore 
dispensable, attainment ; but an attainment of daily 
utility, and therefore indispensable. Should you be 
of this opinion, I trust you will, at your leisure, ra- 
mify and corroborate my arguments, or categorically 
refute them if deemed inconclusive. No one, let me 
assert most unaffectedly, will be more ready than 
myself, to abandon the old course of tuition, when 
a better and easier one shall have been pointed out. 



222 UTILITY OF THE 

The classic tutors of the present day are not so 
bigoted as to believe that the old Roman road is 
still a via sacra of perfection. On the contrary, the 
major part of them, while conservative of its unde- 
niable excellencies, would, for their own sakes, if 
possible, render it a rail and royal road to learning, 
by adopting all available helps from Pestalozzi, 
Jacotot and other educational writers of talent. 
Improvement and destruction are, however, two 
things. 

As to the quantum of classical information neces- 
sary to be attained, the limits of an epistle preclude 
much discussion. It may be observed that, in con- 
sequence of the vast increase of scientific know- 
ledge, indispensable to the scholar, a much less 
amount of Greek at least is desirable. Life is short, 
and art is long. Any one branch of any one of the 
sciences will occupy the brief space of human exist- 
ence in pursuing it to its ne plus ultra. The time is 
unquestionably arrived, when pupils will cease to 
leave public schools, and students their Alma Mater, 
adepts in every thing dead, but blockheads in every 
thing living. What the quantum may be must be 
decreed by a higher educational tribunal. All time 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 223 

that can be spared from Greek iambics and accents, 
might be profitably devoted to the mathematics. — 
This noble science, especially the geometrical depart- 
ment, being coeval and co-extensive with the uni- 
verse, must be justly deemed ' the sublimest of the 
physical sciences, and the key of nature.' Without 
it, all exact knowledge and demonstration ceases; 
by its prosecution, the mind is habituated to patient 
investigation, and prepared for the reception of truth. 
It thereby becomes qualified to judge with sound- 
ness, argue with clearness, and to decide with safety. 
Every tree, flower, and animal, — in short, all created 
things, from the remote orb of Herschel to the 
mite, seems proportioned by its principles. As Ray 
has well observed, the muscles of the human frame 
alone possess more geometry than all the engines of 
man's invention put together. Whatever pursuits 
occupy the attention, geometry, above all others, 
must delight the understanding, by bearing it along 
on the wings of truth. # 

In reply to an objection, which I remember to 
have been made by you, viz. that Shakspeare, and 
several of our most estimable authors, were not Latin 

* Reynard. 



224 UTILITY OF THE 

scholars, let me remark, there is no valid evidence to 
prove that their styles would not have been far supe- 
rior, had they received the ' ultima basia ' from the 
classic Muse. You will find, on analyzing their dic- 
tion, that their most beautiful tropes and figures are 
derived from the antients. I may be permitted, in 
contrast to them, to bring forward a phalanx of lu- 
minaries in the church, on the bench, in the senate, 
and at the bar, — divines, legislators, statesmen, poets, 
philosophers, and heroes, who were educated under 
the old system, to whose worth England owes much 
of her present proud pre-eminence. Let the con- 
templation of them render us careful how we sup- 
port those scholastic agitators, who, in sweeping 
away the cobwebs from our academic institutions, 
may turn the broom of reform into the besom of 
destruction. 

Should the position be tolerably established, that 
the study of the classics is of daily utility as the 
best exercise for the faculties, as a verbal help, as a 
means of improving the taste, and also that without 
a certain acquaintance with them we cannot per- 
fectly understand our own language, my satisfac- 
tion will be complete. It is unnecessary to indulge 



GREEK AND LATIN CLASSICS. 225 

further discussion in order to evince them to be the 
purest fountains of beautiful thought, grand expres- 
sion, and correct taste; because this, which is by far 
the strongest ' point oVappui,' has been already done 
by the learned Beattie, and by other abler pens. 

I shall conclude, therefore, by expressing a hope, 
that the classics, instead of falling into desuetude, 
will be studied, as far as they are useful, with greater 
zeal; and especially by those gentler beings, to 
whom, under Providence, we owe all that we enjoy, 
and whose education in this department has cer- 
tainly, of late years, been much too limited. 

With earnest petition that you will not consider 
me incorrigible in erroneous opinions through pedan- 
try, prejudice, or interest, I remain, 

My dear William, 

Yours ever faithfully, 

Preceptor. 



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